


The Fox and The Hound

by YouDroppedYourForgiveness



Category: Hannibal (TV), Secondhand Lions (2003)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Hannibal, Bottom Will, Canon-Typical Violence, Cooking Lessons, Dark Will Graham, Domestic, First Kiss, First Time for Everything Fest, Fix-It, Fluff, Follow the White Rabbit, Foster Care, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Hannibal is Hannibal, Hannibal is a Cannibal, Love at First Sight, M/M, Mentor/Protégé, Murder, Pack of Dogs, Post-Canon, Rimming, Secondhand Lions AU, Slow Burn, Storytelling, Top Hannibal, Top Will, We Are Her Fathers Now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 14:25:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 41,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5669260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouDroppedYourForgiveness/pseuds/YouDroppedYourForgiveness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a story about a young girl, Abigail Hobbs, who is sent to stay with two eccentric but mysterious older gentlemen, while her foster mother is away on a business trip. Life will never be the same for Abigail, who thought she would always be alone in the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Follow the White Rabbit

Florida summer of 2035

 

Heat waves rippled through the view of the windshield of the car, across the hood like a mirage in a desert. Abigail Hobbs sat with her arm propping her head up, staring out the window. The perfect picture of a bored 10 year old, she was expertly doing her best to tune out the lady driving the car. Said lady was her legal guardian now. The guardians name was Vanessa Atwell, she was Abigail’s new foster mother. 

The young girl had only been with Ms. Atwell 5 months and she already felt like she was being pawned off on someone else. Abigail knew that she was strange, and a freak like so many of the other foster kids in the system had called her. She knew this, and yet she tried not to let it bother her. It always did.

“Did you hear me? Abs?” 

The Atwell lady was tapping the girl on the shoulder, shaking her out of the mind fog she was in. Abigail gritted her teeth, she hated when Ms. Atwell used that pet name on her. It sounded fake and not very kind when it rolled off her tongue. 

“Hum? Sorry I must have zoned out.”

Fluttering her eyes at the women, Abigail replied playing stupid. She really didn’t care what her so called guardian had to say right now. In fact she was busy low-key hating the women for putting her through all this.

“I was just telling you how much you’ll like this place. It’s wonderful, very nice modern home, and well kept. And the two owners are so charming. I swear you will fall. in. love.” 

The annoying woman prattled on more about the house. Abigail almost started going back to ignoring the lady when Ms. Atwell got more quiet. 

“The whole thing is very mysterious; two bachelors living together, an endless supply of money. And not a soul knows what they did for a living.” She spoke in an almost hushed tone, a feat even for her.

“Maybe they robbed banks?”

Atwell snorted in disbelief, at Abigails reply, and then went on to explain that people don’t get away with robbing banks anymore. Let alone even 20 years ago. The girl shrugged pretending she didn’t care. In truth she was more intrigued now. Maybe something interesting in her life would happen. She absent mindedly rubbed a sore spot on her neck, wearing a turtle-neck shirt even in this heat. Abigail continued to stare out the window watching the landscape change. Posh neighborhoods turned into even posher neighborhoods, and then the land went from flat to getting hillier. She started to notice more sand and less homes. 

“You know Abs, you should totally look into the mystery behind the house, and it’s funding for me. I am sure a lot of other people would be very interested in learning a few things. Do you think you could do that for me, sweetie?” 

“You want me to snoop around, while I’m there? How long will I be stuck here…?”

“Oh you know just a little while, until I’m back from my business trip.”

“Why couldn’t I go with? I..I don’t want to be left behind.”

As much as Abigail was annoyed with Vanessa Atwell, she feared one thing even more. Being abandoned was far worse then putting up with someone who was mostly just annoying at worst. The young girl did her best to act like an adult. In her mind she had left her childhood at the door when she became a foster kid. She did not like being reminded that she was still a 10 year old girl.

“Abs dear, this is not a trip for children, or else I wouldn’t bat an eyelash at bringing you with me.” 

Ms Atwell reached over and patted the girls cheek fondly. Abigail pulled back slightly and tried not to act repulsed, she was sure Ms. Atwell wouldn’t even notice. Abigail just sighed turning her body away again to the safety of her window.

“We will be there in a few minutes, I gather.”

As the car slowed; the nondescript silver, older model Volkswagon GTI turned down a road onto what seemed like an unnecessarily long drive way; Two things stood out immediately. High bank buffers down the sides of the road, and the whole place seemed to be fenced in. At last she finally noticed the signs… One read “Warning Private Property!” another “WARNING: Beware dog!” but someone had in neat hand, painted an S on the sign to make it DOGS. Farther down “NO Trespassing.” Abigail raised an eyebrow, charming indeed.

~

There was a slight hill incline of sand dune, and then the house loomed into view like a humpback whale breaking the surface of water. To say the house was fucking huge was an understatement. Abigail had never seen a house like this before. Behind the house one could see the ocean, and the beach that stretched out on either side. It almost appeared lonely all by itself with nothing near by for miles.

The car pulled into a paved drive way that half wrapped around the house. It gave you a semi decent view of the backyard if you could call it that. It was one giant deck that started at ground level and just went upward, then turned into a freaking dock. The house itself was very modern, angular and utterly as mysterious as it was beautiful. It boasted three floors and a very strange pointy attic, almost like a tower, on a castle. There was so much glass, windows that went from floor to ceiling and the sunlight glinted through all that glass like a prism.  


“Were here let’s go say Hello, shall we?” All Abigail could manage was a small “Whoa…” as she climbed out of the car wishing she had a pair of sunglasses. Average in height for her age, Abigail had long dark brown hair; big doe eyes the color of a cloudless sky, and freckles across her forehead. She was plain, but beautiful in a girl next door sort of way. 

She spared a glance to her guardian as the woman closed her car door with an almost thud, the sound heavy and distinct to Volkswagen’s. Ms. Atwell was in her early 30’s, no grey hair in sight, strawberry blonde hair, which Abigail suspected was more blonde then strawberry the latter being from a salon. 

“Don’t dally Abs, come along now.”

The Atwell woman wore a ladies business suit, with a skirt. She had no cheekbones to speak of and her nose was pointed almost sharp. She also had brown eyes and a look that said she meant business. Abigail followed Vanessa around back lingering still in awe of the house, when suddenly came a loud gunshot close by. 

“Oh my god, what…Oh my goodness!” Ms. Atwell sputtered, Abigail had barely flinched, but her foster mother looked like a cat whose tail just got stepped on. If she had a tape measure she would have bet Vanessa had jumped at least a foot. The sound echoed again, as the girl and her guardian hurried down to the dock. 

~

On the long dock sat a man in an elegant chair, near the end of the pier. Abigail took in the sight, her eyes growing wide. It took every ounce of well groomed will-power she had not to let her mouth gape open. The man sitting in the chair wore a three piece suit, all white, matching wing-tip shoes and tie. That wasn’t even close to the most bizarre thing about the whole scene. He was holding an honest to goodness old fashion black cloth parasol. 

The gentleman with the parasol looked to be about in his 60’s maybe 70’s, he was very well kept for his age. Hair immaculate, brushed to the side, his hair was mostly white with flecks of remaining grey. The most notable thing about him was for all that Vanessa lacked in cheekbones, this man made up for in spades.

In a tiny boat, still moored to the dock stood another man, Abigail figured him to be slightly younger than the parasol holder, by maybe 10 years. He wore a long sleeved tan Henley shirt, the sleeves pushed to his elbows, all four buttons at the neck of the shirt undone. He had on brown cargo pants and hiking boots. Jammed on his head was a grey beanie, salt and pepper curls poking out on all sides. He wore glasses that threaten to slide down the bridge of his nose. He had a well groomed graying beard and a faint mustache. 

In his hand was a 12 gauge shotgun. The source of the noise, he held it like a man who knew what he was doing. Now we’re back to the bizarre part. He was shooting into the water… Like firing a shotgun into the water from a tiny dingy boat tied to a dock, while a man with a parasol sat watching him like a lazy cat. Abigail suddenly felt like Alice in Wonderland, having fallen down a rabbit hole, a guy in a white suit holding a parasol the only thing missing was a giant pocket watch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first attempt at a FanFic, and I got the idea from a Greek Myth Au I typed up, and then it morphed into a monster, and I only hope to be an innocent bystander to it's rampage. 
> 
> This has not been Beta'd
> 
> I tried to blend the Tv show Hannibal with the movie Secondhand Lions as best I could. 
> 
> Touches on the Immovable object x Unstoppable force paradox.


	2. Curiouser and Curiouser

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get more interesting for Abigail. Promises are kept and food is prepared.

“Guillaume McLaughlin, what ever are you doing?” 

Ms. Atwell glided down the dock in her expensive shoes, Abigail close on her heels. Both men turned at the same time, like two dogs turning their heads in sync to one sound. It was rather unnerving, to watch.

“I’m fishing, what does it look like?” the man with the shotgun said. He bobbed is head matter of factly. He had to have been Guillaume. Abigail stayed mostly behind Vanessa and didn’t realize she was mouthing the word “Fishing” until the man with the parasol met her gaze. 

“Bonjour, Ms Atwell, to what do we owe the pleasure of your company, and your shadow?” He stared directly at Abigail and barely looked at Vanessa while he spoke. Abigail’s mouth was suddenly very dry.

“I see, always straight to the point, Stephen. I expected nothing less.” Ms. Atwell purred… it was almost obscene. “Naturally.” He added. Stepping aside she drew Abigail forward looking pleased about it. 

“Gentleman, this is my new Foster daughter, Abigail, she can be a bit shy. Say Hello." Vanessa encouraged her forward.

Abigail squared her shoulders and adopted a stubborn look. She was not about to let Ms. Atwell parade her around like a show pony. 

“It’s impossible not to be, when you can’t get a word in edgewise.” Abigail mumbled to no one. 

“Abigail…” Ms. Atwell stared at her with shock, her pointy face turning red. “Manners.” Vanessa gave Abigail a stern look.

 

Guillaume choked on his laughter trying to cover it with a cough. “See, I like her already.” He adjusted his glasses and shouldered the shotgun, grinning wide when Stephen gave him a wry glance, face impassive. 

“Shall we, retreat into the house?” Stephen swiftly closed the parasol with a snap, and swept his right arm out like a butler. He had a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. 

Abigail bit the inside of her cheek to keep from giggling at the whole absurd scene. Single file they ventured towards the house and up the large deck. Stephen brought up the rear with Guillaume in the lead. 

“Oh right, mind the…” Guillaume never finished his sentence.

The minute the French double doors to the house on the upper deck were opened, a pack of dogs spilled out and crowded the woman and her charge. Abigail squeaked and used Ms. Atwell like a shield. It didn’t help. The pack of dogs came forward like a wave, tails wagging and sniffing.

“I assure you that the dogs, are the least of your worries, they are mostly harmless.” Stephen added offering a quirk of a smile, a barely there upturn of lips.

Reaching out her hand Abigail, moved to pet the one animal that stood out, as it pushing its large flat nose around her ankles. “Nice doggie.” she told it voice wavering.

“That’s our pot-bellied pig, Mason.” Guillaume told them moving farther into the house.

“Are you fattening it up, to eat?” Ms. Atwell asked slightly horrified.

“We would not dream of it, Mason is the most behaved of the pack and very well trained.”

Stephen and Guillaume shared a look, while leading their guests into the kitchen. 

If Abigail thought the outside of the house was amazing, she was mistaken. The inside was more beautiful and elegant. Hard wood floors and marble counter tops. Unique color palettes, that appeared like two armies meeting in battle. They clashed, but blurred together, uniquely different. But it worked; it was very strange and pleasing to the eye. 

There were paintings on the walls that she could see from where she stood. The kitchen was very neat and tidy, wide open and welcoming. It had a long marble island in the middle with bar stools on the one side. The floor to ceiling windows gave a wonderful view of the frontyard. It let in so much light and there was a breakfast nook off to the side in the far corner.

“Lunch I think.” Stephen mused, and shed his outer jacket carefully hanging it on a hook, taking instead an apron, and tying it around his waist. Then he proceeded to roll up his sleeves.

“Would you care to assist me Abigail?” Stephen turned sharply to give the young girl a look.

The look clearly said she had no choice in the matter, so she nodded her head dumbly.

“Sure.” 

“Guillaume and I have much to talk about, keep Stephen company for us Abs, Dear.” Ms Atwell smiled and nodded to them both. She followed Guillaume into a large dining room. The younger man spared a glance at Stephen before he shut two more double doors behind them.

“Have you assisted a great deal in the kitchen, Abigail?”

Nodding her head yes, she pushed her sleeves up, wanting to be useful. Stephen helped her into an apron of her own and looked at her pleased. 

“I haven’t in over a year tho…” she frowned at the painful memory, but pushed it down. Not wanting to be overwhelmed with emotion. She wanted to enjoy this for what it was, even if it was a sad reminder at that. Abigail stared down at the marble counter top. She hoped he hadn’t noticed her sudden depression. 

“Frittata should be a fitting meal.” 

Stephen moved about the kitchen like a dancer, who knew every step by heart. He pulled ingredients out of the stainless steel fridge and, disappeared for a few minutes into a pantry near the breakfast nook.

“Have you ever tried a Frittata before, Abigail?” he didn’t even look at her but continued to place things on the island and gathered a cutting board. 

“No sir.” She added in fact she didn’t even know what a Frittata was, the ingredients seemed simple enough. Stephen gathered a cast-iron skillet and set it aside.

Stephen planted her in front of a cutting board, with it a glass bowl of already cooked potatoes. He showed her how to peel them with a butter knife, the skins sliding right off, with no resistance. 

“It is a rather simple dish, quick and easy. And the maker chooses the filler ingredients.” Abigail was pulled in by his deep soothing voice; she had no idea where to place his accent. She listened intently to his words; he explained the recipe to her in detail. 

“Twelve eggs should be fitting for this Frittata.”

Over another bowl Stephen held a knife, and then lightly tossed an egg into the air and let it fell down onto the knife to crack it open. Abigail stared in surprise. What a strange man he was. She couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. She didn’t remember the last time she felt this happy.

Prep well underway, the older man added the filler ingredients to a pan with a little bit of melted butter and fried it up quickly. Cooking off any moisture, adding color to the veggies. He flipped the contents into the air like a pro, and turned to give Abigail a concise smile. 

“Now all that is left to do is bake the whole thing in the oven…” Stephen started.

“We're old, dammit! Leave us alone!” 

Double doors flashed open and into the kitchen stomped Guillaume sans beanie, wild curls bouncing. He looked pissed. He flopped down onto a bar stool.

“Language, mon cher.” Stephen’s eyelids were half closed, while watching Guillaume’s every move.

Ms. Atwell had hurriedly followed in the old mans wake. She looked amused like a cat torturing a mouse. Abigail’s eyes darted from all three adults utterly puzzled as to what was going on, but she had a sinking feeling it involved her.

“It’s settled then, Gee you owe me, and you promised.” Guillaume did his best not to reply. He grumbled barely acknowledging Abigail’s foster mother.

“Excellent, I shall return for Abigail in two weeks. Would you go gather your things from the car Abs.”

“Wonderful, a house guest.” Abigail heard Stephen chime in as she went to go fetch her things from the car. She was almost tripped up by dogs once she was outside. Mason the pig blending in with the rest of the pack. They trotted after her like ducklings. 

~

Ms. Atwell had politely declined lunch making her excuses. Abigail and her guardian said their goodbyes at the car. 

“Remember Abs, keep an eye out for anything strange. And I will see you before you know it. Two weeks is not a long time.” She awkwardly hugged the young girl around the shoulders.

Abigail nod, not sure what to even say to that. With a stare she realized she wouldn’t even miss the woman. Almost cheerfully she waved to Vanessa as her car pulled away. The dogs and Mason ran after the car at least part of the way down the long drive.

~

After lunch Stephen and Guillaume showed Abigail to her room. It was perched on the topmost part of the house that was the pointed tower. A small attic bedroom, it was bathed in light from the windows and had a twin bed in the middle of the room. There was a small dresser, and a wardrobe on the opposite side of the room from the dresser. There was very little decoration in this bedroom, which surprised her.

“Feel free to settle in and unpack. If you wish you may explore the house at your leisure.” Guillaume shot Stephen a sharp look. Stephen responded with a minute shrug that could have meant everything and nothing at all.

“Dinner is always at 6pm.” Stephen continued, ignoring Guillaume.

“Look, we don't know anything about children, so if you need something...” Stephen glares at Guillaume and opens his mouth to say something, but Guillaume cuts him off.

“-find it yourself. Better yet: learn to do with out.”

Abigail looks at the both of them horrified.

“Guillaume is just jesting Abigail. He has gotten, to a certain extent cranky in his old age.” Guillaume turned and left the room with out another word. Stephen lingered in the door way. 

“Please feel free to ask, if you should need anything. And I hope you enjoy your stay with us.” Stephen bowed and swiftly left a bewildered Abigail to her own devices.

Abigail set her suitcase on the end of her bed and then flumped back as if it were a pile of leaves. She stared up at the ceiling not sure what to make of everything. Things around here just kept getting… curiouser and curiouser.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gee is Guillaume's nickname as his name is pronounced Gee-OM.
> 
> There is a story behind the name Guillaume, it will be revealed later on.
> 
> Stephen is of course the more snobby sounding versing of the name. Steph-en
> 
> Not surprising. XD


	3. Down the Rabbit Hole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abigail explores, things are uncovered, and mystery is a foot. She continues to fall deeper down the rabbit hole.

Abigail had unpacked her things placing them in the dresser, and then looked about her room more closely. She found a fluffy light blue Egyptian cotton robe on the back of the door. She ran her fingers across the fabric and sighed. It was so soft; she wanted to rub her face on it. She had to stop herself; instead she wandered over to the wardrobe.

Gingerly she opened the wardrobe and looked inside; it only contained a few things. Very fine suits in different colors. She almost expected at this point to find a damn portal to Narnia in the back. She closed the wardrobe with a lite click, moving to the left side of the bed, opposite the wardrobe, she saw a little crawl space door. 

Not able to help herself, she turned the door knob, not realizing that she held her breath. Disappointment hit her when it didn’t open, she took a breath finally. She didn’t know what she had expected, it had a keyhole. Of course it would be locked. This place was very strange. As odd as the two gentlemen are, she didn’t seem to mind, at least they didn’t talk over much, and they left her alone. It was a win-win situation. 

Feeling bold Abigail found her mp3 player with her wireless headphones. She figured she could explore the giant house before dinner. Maybe if she had time, walk along the beach if it didn’t get too late. She changed her shoes putting on comfy flip flops, and then shut the bedroom door. She clattered down the flight of stairs, looking for rooms to discover.

~

“Golden Years” by David Bowie played in her headphones, an old song but a good one, she liked classics. Abigail hummed along to the song, singing out loud. 

“I'll stick with you baby for a thousand years, Nothing's gonna touch you in these golden years, gold” 

She found herself in a den, with a fancy desk in the middle, with bookshelves lining the walls. There was a glass table behind the desk to the right. She saw that there was a catwalk above with a ladder to get up to it. In front of the desk were two gray leather chairs. She walked over to the glass table, on it was a pile of very detailed drawings, and she took her time to go through them.

 

One of the drawings caught her eye she lifted it up and raised an eyebrow. It was of a corpse with a crap ton of weapons sticking out of it. She started to put the drawing back in the pile with the rest, when there was a tap on her shoulder. Abigail’s heart leap into her throat, she almost choked on it, the girl swore loudly and ripped her headphones out of her ears turning. 

“You scared the shit, out of me!” she exclaiming to Stephen who gave her a mildly amused look. 

Stephen had changed out of his all white three piece suit. Now he wore one that was light grey with a wide brown chalk stripe, brown undershirt and a red tie. 

“Language, young lady. Forgive me that was not my intention.” He held his arms behind his back walking around Abigail to look at the drawing she had been admiring. 

“Who did these drawings? They are really nice.” 

“Ah the Wound man yes; Thank you, I have a lot of hobbies. And apparently too much time on my hands.” The look of mischief was back in Stephen’s eyes.

“I don’t have any hobbies, anymore.” Abigail replies feeling rather sad about that statement. Her hand went to her neck idly. 

“Pity, Perhaps I shall teach you how to play the Harpsichord while you stay with us. If you wish, that is.”

“I think I’d like that, I’ve never learned how to play an instrument before.” She smiled, and meant it.

“Dinner should be ready in about five minutes.” he checked his watch, it looked expensive.

“Guillaume has been kind enough to keep an eye on the food for me, while I went in search of you.” 

“Sounds good, I’m starving.” She followed Stephen back towards the kitchen, she was pretty sure she would have gotten lost with out him.

~

 

Guillaume was fixing place settings putting out plates and silverware, keeping to one end of the dining room table. Abigail did a double take he looked completely different. He wore a suit, not a three piece suit or anything, but a nice one, the jacket was draped across the back of a chair in the dining room. His hair was brushed back, and his beard was trimmed very short. He no longer wore his glasses. 

“Food is ready to be plated, if you would do the honors.” Guillaume motioned to Stephen with a nod.

“Very good. Please take a seat, Abigail.” She did as she was told watching as Stephen took confidant strides into the kitchen. 

Guillaume opened a bottle of wine, and poured a glass for Stephen and himself. Abigail she had a sparkling water in front of her. A few minutes later Guillaume put his suit jacket back on and took a seat on the right across from Abigail. Stephen came back carrying three plates as if it was no trouble at all. 

“Prosciutto-stuffed Chicken with Mushroom sauce, Bon Appétit” Stephen beamed with pride.

With everyone served he unbuttoned his suit jacket and took a seat at the head of the table. He looked like a king, everything was so fancy, and pretty, she almost didn’t want to ruin the image on her plate. Almost… Trying the food, it was the second best thing she had ever tasted in her life, the first being the Frittata. There was something oddly familiar about the dish that she couldn’t place, so she put it out of her mind for now.

“This is amazing; I didn’t think anything could top the, Frittata thing.” 

“Don’t complement him to much; it will go to his head. And then we shall never hear the end of it.” Guillaume added with a smirk, taking a sip of his wine.

“Nonsense. And thank you Abigail.” Stephen gave a small half smile. Abigail couldn’t help but laugh, feeling more at ease. 

“So… where are you two from. Are you French Stephen?” Abigail started; she wanted to keep the cheerful conversation going. 

“He is hardly French, and I’m American, we’re just two old has-beens. After 20 odd years, returning finally to the states to retire.” 

“Not French, but we did live in France for a time. It was lovely.” Stephen ignored the resting-bitch face Guillaume was giving him. He looked like he was remembering fond memories, he swirled his wine around in his glass before taking a small sip.

Abigail took a drink of her water, to hide her smirk behind the glass. They acted like an old married couple. It was rather amusing to witness. They were like night and day. One was polite, calm, cool and collected. The other was like a mini thunder cloud that also happens to be blunt and rude.

“Where are you from?” Guillaume turned the question back on Abigail, drawing out the word you.

“I’m. I’m originally from, Minnesota.” Abigail didn’t look at either of the gentlemen, she suddenly wasn’t so hungry.

~

After getting ready for bed, her teeth brushed, she braided her hair to the side, pajamas on, she felt restless, and not at all sleepy. She walked circles around her room, mind wandering. Her room was dark, but for the soft glow of the bedside lamp. She went to the dresser to find a small backpack she kept from her old life. 

Sitting on the bed she took out a few things, a flashlight, photos, a hunting knife, and a few trinkets she refused to get rid of. She clicked the flashlight on and off watching the light come and go like a light-house beacon. Feeling nosy she got up and went to the wardrobe opening it again, and went through the pockets, to see if she could find anything at all. Nothing, not a damn thing. 

Taking one last sweep of the wardrobe the beam of light from her flashlight fell on what looked like a hidden panel. She reached out for it expecting it to not open, but it did. The only thing inside was a key. A key, a freakin key… She was so excited she thought she would burst. quickly she rushed over to the little locked crawl space.

She put the key in and it clicked open, she was even giddier then before. She hadn’t felt so adventurous since, well since Minnesota. Carefully Abigail opened the door, a little nervous about what she might find. She held her flashlight close, walking into the dark little room. Inside was a bunch of old luggage, boxes, some furniture. There was also a giant steam chest that looked old. She went to it, like a moth to a flame and heft the lid up. 

The inside had been all neatly piled and arranged in the chest. She picked the first object up on the stack it was an old photograph. In the picture stood two men, they looked happy. The taller had his arm around the younger; she realized with a start that it was Guillaume and Stephen about a million years ago. Before she got the chance to look at anything else she heard a loud bang from downstairs.

Abigail scrambled to close the lid of the chest and hurried back into her room and locked the door, she put the key in her backpack. The young girl went to the large window behind her bed. What she saw was Guillaume on the beach in nothing but boxers and a t-shirt, the pack of dogs following him. Confused and curious as hell, she headed downstairs. 

~ 

Outside it was warm, with a light breeze. Abigail had followed Guillaume down the beach to where he was walking. She kept back, trying to put some distance between them so she didn’t draw attention to herself at first. Finally she worked up the courage to say something. “Guillaume?” 

No answer, so the girl walked up to him, she was about to tap the older man lightly on the shoulder. He pushed past her as if he didn’t even see Abigail, she jumped back. The girl turned around to see the dogs behind her, she watched them, and they watched their master. The assembly had traveled a ways from the house and was far enough from the surf to be safe.

“He’s sleep walking…”

Abigail told the dogs, not even believing it herself. She sat down on the beach next to the pack, petting the one closest, they were all lined up in a row. Five dogs, a pig, and a girl. Guillaume had walked right up to the edge of the water, it lapped at his ankles, and she could see him stare out into the darkness as if there was something out there, whatever it was, only he could see it.

“I wonder what he’s looking at.” The dogs didn’t reply.

Abigail woke up on the beach as the sun barely peaked over the horizon, there was a light fog. Guillaume was no where to be found. She had sand every where and had slept in a pile with the dogs. The young girl stood up and dust herself off, the dogs shook awake with her, and they all ran back to the house. She would have to shower again; also was pretty sure she would be picking sand from her hair for days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is in Memory of David Bowie, may he rest in peace. He would have been the most amazing Robert Lecter. <3


	4. Why is a raven like a writing-desk?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harpsichord lessons, and storytelling.

Freshly showered, Abigail wore her hair braided to the side. Standing in front of the mirror in her room, she traced a scar on the right side of her neck. Staring at her reflection for a few more minutes then tied a delicate scarf in place, checking to make sure it covered the mark completely. Abigail put on jean pedal pushers, a flowery tank top, and a cardigan over it all, she threw on some dark blue low rise chucks. 

Abigail had hoped to do some more exploring today. The steam chest in the attic crawl space was always lingering in the back of her mind. She could not stop thinking about it. That would have to be for later, she did not want to get caught snooping around the attic, but first breakfast. 

~

The young girl squints at the sunlight streaming in her eyes, from the window. Stephen had her seated at the breakfast nook. She had a glass of orange juice, and a plate of gourmet scrambled eggs, it had some kind of sausage in it too. Diced tomatoes on top, it was really good. Stephen sat across from her; he wore the most casual outfit yet, a sweater and dress slacks. 

“Brand new mattress and I’m still waking up tired and sore.” Guillaume wandered into the kitchen. He was rolling his shoulders and clutching at his left shoulder like it hurt. 

Abigail just stared at him knowing the source of the problem. She wondered if Stephen knew, he had to know, yet he said nothing. Stephen just sipped his coffee and watched Guillaume as he took a seat across from the older man. The younger of the two wore a button down short sleeved dress shirt and dress slacks, nothing fancy. His hair was a curly mess again.

“I had been thinking it would be pleasant if we started a garden.” 

“No” 

Abigail looked at the pack of dogs scattered around the kitchen in various places, a small fluffy one named Ambrosius sat at the girls elbow waiting patiently, in hopes of maybe getting left-overs. She met her fuzzy companions gaze, scratching behind his ears, smiling to herself. One of the other dogs whose name was Codetta whined, as if sensing the squabbling about to happen.

“We are retired; gardening is a reasonable hobby for retired citizens.” Stephen stopped eating long enough to give Guillaume a look, ‘the look’. 

“What would you do with all those damn vegetables anyways?” Guillaume gave Stephen ‘the look’ right back eyebrows raised.

“As if you have to even ask, my dear. You know very well. Don’t be obtuse. Also gardening is excellent for the mind and body; perhaps we shall live to be a hundred.”

“Hell with that, you live to be a hundred.” 

“Well you certainly won’t with that attitude.” 

To Abigail’s surprise Guillaume let out a small chuckle shaking his head. She swore they were the most ridiculous old guys she ever met. The younger still shaking his head got up to clean his plate taking with him his cup of coffee. 

Stephen winked at Abigail who grinned. “Would you like your first lesson on the Harpsichord Abigail.” He made it a half question half statement as if that is exactly what she would be doing this evening. 

“I have nothing better to do.” The girl replied looking through the window before turning back to watch Guillaume take the dogs outside with a sharp whistle. She felt Ambrosius’ fur slip through her fingers as he trot away to join his pack.

“Very good, after lunch should do. Until then you have free time to do what ever you wish.” Stephen gracefully got up pushing his chair in, gathering his plate and Abigail’s. She helped him do the dishes, he washed and she dried. Afterward he then showed her where each dish belonged when, the girl went to put the dry dishes away.

~

After lunch Abigail found herself sitting on a bench with Stephen in front of a Harpsichord. They were in a sort of ballroom type lounge which was wide open, and had some seating around the edge of the room.

“I won’t lie, when you asked me if I would like to learn how to play the Harpsichord, I had no idea what it was. So it’s like a piano kind of?” She looked down at her hands hoping to create art, instead of something other for once. 

“I prefer the sound and feel of the harpsichord. More alive, the music arrives like experience, sudden and entire. The piano has the quality of a memory.” Stephen replied looking thoughtful.

She listened to him while he patiently explained the important parts of the instrument. He proceeded to play a quick tune, she didn’t recognize, before continuing.

“The harpsichord is an instrument of subtlety.” The older man pointed out different notes on sheet music, and played them for her in turn.

“When played the strings are plucked by a plectrum, much how one would pluck a guitar string with a pick.”

“I’ve never heard anything so eerie and beautiful before. It’s very strange in a way, but I like it.” Abigail commented soaking up the notes that floated in the air.

“The fingers curve much more with the harpsichord, than they do with playing the piano.” Stephen showed the girl where and how to place her hands on the keys. 

“I have found also that it is much easier for those who play the organ, to pick up the harpsichord, then for those who are familiar with the piano.”

Abigail’s mind started to wander while Stephen played a short piece for her. She thought about Ms. Atwell, and Guillaume, wondering what it was that he owed her guardian. Something big enough she assumed, to get him to watch a kid for two weeks. What an odd game these adults played. Randomly the girl told the gentleman next to her.

“I don’t think Guillaume likes me very much. He hasn’t been very friendly.” She was partly making an observation and also some what digging for information. 

“Guillaume has a hard time interacting with new people, especially when they are nosy little girls.” Stephen tweaked the tip of her nose just as he stopped playing. She could see the mischievous glint in his eye return.

Abigail stared at him briefly, doing her best to keep shock off her face. As a distraction she played a few random notes on the harpsichord that didn’t make for much of a tune. 

“Give him chance; I am positive he will warm up to you in his own time.” Stephen’s face was back to being unreadable, he was very good at that.

~

Dinner came and went, Abigail was exhausted she had a long day, and she even got to spend some time on the beach with the dogs. They loved to chase the waves, and fight over any stick thrown their way. She laughed anytime Mason ran along side the dogs, it was so silly.

Lying in bed she looked up at the ceiling, thinking about her mom and dad, she missed them. Very much, but being here with these two made it feel familiar, as if it was some how able to go back to what it used to be. She knew that could never happen, but it was nice to dream. It brought back fond memories, but also painful ones too.

Right as she was dozing off, she heard the bang of a door from down below. Wide awake now Abigail peered out the window; it was like déjà vu, Guillaume walking across the beach, dogs and pig obediently following behind. She crammed her feet into a pair of shoes forgoing socks, and hurried downstairs. 

Just as before the curly haired older man was transfixed to a place out on the water only he could see. Abigail felt almost compelled to wake him up, even if he got mad at her for it. She was about to shake him gently on the shoulder, when a hand snaked out taking a steady grip on her wrist. 

“Leave him for a minute.” Stephen had appeared out of no where like smoke.  
He lead the girl a short ways back from the shore to where he must have being building a small fire on the beach. 

“Does he always do that?”

“No, not always, but I keep an eye on him just the same.” He busied himself with starting the fire, there were two stumps for seats, and he motioned for her to take one of the seats. 

The dogs came over, all of them finding a comfortable place to lie down. Codetta and one other she didn’t know the name of stayed close to Stephen.

“What’s wrong with him?” Abigail asked. The older gentleman expertly side-stepped her question, for one of his own.

“Have you ever heard of the dog Laelaps and the Teumessian Fox?” He sat on the unoccupied stump in front of their little fire staring distantly up at the sky. 

“Nope, I’m not familiar with that at all.” Abigail glanced over at the older gentleman waiting for him to continue.

When he didn’t reply, she stared at him expecting an answer, and finally meeting her gaze with one of his miniature grins, he added.

“Well if you insist.” Stephen glanced over at the still form of Guillaume, while poking at the fire. It sent sparks into the air, floating above their heads for a few seconds, before turning to ash and disappearing forever.

“What does a dog and some fox have to do with what’s wrong with Guillaume?” the girl asked wondering what made the old guy bring it up in the first place. 

“If you would like me to tell you the story, I would advise you not to be so rude, Miss Hobbs.”

With that Abigail kept her mouth shut, she did want to hear the story, but she also didn’t want to make him angry. 

“In Greek myth Dionysus, the god of wine, ritual madness, and fertility was angry with the children of Thebes.” 

“Why was he angry with them?”

“I am getting to that, would you like me to continue the story or not?” Stephen said pausing to give the young girl a dry look.

“Sorry, yea.” Abigail clapped a hand over her mouth. She waited looking sheepish for him to start talking again.

“Dionysus was angry with them for not believing in him. So as punishment he sent the Teumessian fox to prey upon his victims. “Stephen shifted his weight getting more comfortable and resting elbows on his knees, while leaning forward a little bit.

“This particularly clever fox was larger than life in size. Not only was he unique in mass, the Teumessian Fox was destined to never be caught. “The older gentleman took a moment to stare out in the darkness beyond the light of their little camp fire. 

“The fox had an interesting and beautiful way of killing the children of Thebes, not content to just slaughter and take life. He ate them when he could, taking his time to enjoy it.”

Abigail shivered thinking about her life before foster homes and Ms. Atwell. Something about the Fox eating people resonated with the girl. She listened to his story, but her mind wandered back to her old family. Her hand automatically went to her neck feeling for the scar there.

‘The Regent of Thebes heard about the murders, and the bodies that would appear with organs missing. One day he decided that he could not let it carry on. So the Regent set the Theban general Amphitryon to the impossible task of catching this elusive fox. After many years of slipping through the cracks always three steps ahead of Amphitryon, the general grew frustrated at not being able to capture the Teumessian Fox.” Stephen studied the back of Guillaume’s body as if committing it to memory. Abigail wondered if maybe he was.

“What happen then, did this general catch his fox?” the young girl gave Stephen a curious look, while he watched Guillaume. 

“Well…” Stephen pulling himself back to the present turned back to Abigail before continuing. He crossed a leg, a hand resting on his ankle. 

“Amphitryon discovered an apparently perfect solution to his problem. He borrowed the extraordinary dog Laelaps. What made this dog so special, well; just like the Fox, Laelaps was also unique, magical some would say. Laelaps was destined to catch everything he chased.” The man had a fond look on his face while talking about the dog Laelaps. 

“Wait, so they used a hound to catch a fox? Isn’t this an old Disney movie?” Abigail raised an eyebrow, thinking back to the movie she had seen a long time ago. 

Abigail wasn’t sure what kind of emotion played across Stephen’s face, he was so hard to read. She finally settled on annoyed, and decided to keep her mouth shut again. She felt her skin prickle under the weight of Stephen’s gaze. It was like he was burning a hole in the back of her head. 

“On the contrary, this is a much older tale, than a simple cartoon.” Stephen sniffed and went back to telling his story. 

Before Stephen could start, Guillaume came back to life, it was as if some one had flipped a switch. He looked at them both with a very confused expression on his face. He shivered rubbing his upper arms.

“What are you two doing out here, aren’t you cold? And shouldn’t you be in bed.”

Stephen looked amused and he exchanged glances with Abigail. It was funny that Guillaume chose to scold them like children rather then ask why he was outside on the beach in the middle of the night. Stephen slowly got to his feet; he poured sand over the fire to put it out. Abigail followed suit, stretching her arms. In a rare moment of tenderness Stephen lead Guillaume by the elbow back to the house. Abigail watched them lingering at a slower pace with the dogs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for any grammar mistakes, I was in a bit of a hurry to put this chapter up, I shall go over it tomorrow when I have a free moment.


	5. The Mock Turtle and the Gryphon dance to the Lobster Quadrille.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abigail gets an impromptu dance lesson, and does some more snooping, but what she finds is nothing at all what she is expecting.

'Tis the voice of the Lobster: I heard him declare  
"You have baked me too brown, I must sugar my hair."  
As a duck with its eyelids, so he with his nose  
Trims his belt and his buttons, and turns out his toes.  
When the sands are all dry, he is gay as a lark,  
And will talk in contemptuous tones of the Shark;  
But, when the tide rises and sharks are around,  
His voice has a timid and tremulous sound.  
I passed by his garden, and marked, with one eye,  
How the Owl and the Panther were sharing a pie:  
The Panther took pie-crust, and gravy, and meat,  
While the Owl had the dish as its share of the treat.  
When the pie was all finished, the Owl, as a boon,  
Was kindly permitted to pocket the spoon;  
While the Panther received knife and fork with a growl,  
And concluded the banquet by --- 

~Tis the Voice of the Lobster by Lewis Carroll

 

Trying to get some sun, Abigail lounged in a chair out on the dock. She found it rather odd that she had been here for almost a week already, and she hadn’t even heard from her foster mother Vanessa. Ambrosius and another dog named Didymus slept close by the girl like two furry gargoyles. Didymus was small and russet colored, looking suspiciously like a fox, and it made her think back to the tale of the dog Laelaps and the Fox. Stephen had never finished his story, and she planned to ask him about if she remembered to do so. 

He kept her very busy, harpsichord lessons after lunch on most days, and sometimes teaching her how to cook. One fine day he even gave her a crash course on ballroom dancing. She giggled thinking about it now. They had been sitting at the harpsichord practicing, when Guillaume had snuck up on them. Feeling showy Stephen had gotten up with out a word and turned on an old record player, some classical music played. Slyly he pulled Guillaume into an embrace as they glide across the little dance floor. 

“This is how he gets you, you know. He forces you to be a pawn on his chess board.” Guillaume huffed out with a grin as they waltzed around the floor, their hands entwined.

“It’s hard to be a pawn, when you, yourself are the king.” Stephen retort as he charmingly led Guillaume around, their steps in complete sync.

“Does that make you the Queen?” Guillaume quip back with a devilish look on his face.

“Check Mate. Queen takes King.” Stephen had a very serious look on his face when he said this.

Guillaume said nothing else as they finished their exhibit with a bow. Stephen had let go of Guillaume some what reluctantly to then walk over to the young girl.

“May I have this dance?” Stephen took Abigail’s hand bowing politely and pulled her out onto the floor with Guillaume who was smiling, both hands stuffed in the pockets of his dress pants.

“I don’t know how to ballroom dance.” The girl croaked out, shaking her head not able to keep the smile off her face.

“It’s ok if you don’t know the steps; Stephen does most of the work.” Stephen twirled Abigail around, but kept his gaze locked with Guillaume. “I do not recall you opposing to me doing most of the work.”

Stephen’s voice was a steady rhythm in time with the music, while teaching the girl steps to the waltz. His grip was firm, and she could barely feel her feet touch the floor. “One, two, three.”

“May I cut in?” Guillaume had come up beside them and courteously removed Abigail from Stephen’s hands and lead her around the floor himself. He was almost as good of a dancer as Stephen was. 

When the music finally ended Abigail and Guillaume came to a rest breathing heavy and laughing. Stephen was clapping slowly. “Bravissimo”

~

The two dogs sleeping near Abigail let out low woofs, signaling the approach of someone. Still she sat, lounging on the dock thinking about their dance lessons. The young girl turned her head to see Guillaume walking toward the end of the dock. “I see Ambrosius and Didymus have found a new human to follow around.”

“I don’t know why they keep following me around either. It’s not like I have anything to offer.” 

“Sometimes dogs are just good judges of character.” The oldest dog of the pack stuck to Guillaume like a bur. The corgi looked up at its master, whined briefly and reached up a paw at the man. “What is it Encephalitis, something the matter?” the old guy asked the dog as if it would give an answer.

Abigail scrunched up her nose and made a confused face. “What kind of name is Encephalitis for a dog?”

“That you’ll have to ask Stephen, he was the master mind behind that name. He also named Codetta and Marziale, I only named Ambrosius and Didymus. “Guillaume had a sort of glower expression as he reached down to pet the old dog sitting on his right shoe.

Changing the subject the girl was hoping to keep the old guy from getting grouchy. “Are you planning on going fishing?”

“Yes, but real fishing today. Not with a gun of course. You ever go fishing before?”

Shaking her head Abigail replied. “Not fishing no, I used to go hunting with my dad.”

Guillaume nod solemnly at the girl while he looked lost in thought. 

“Do you ever hunt?” reaching out to pet Ambrosius to keep her hands busy the girl waited for a reply.

“I just Fish.” 

“It’s the same thing, isn’t it? One you stalk, the other you lure” Abigail looked at the man as their eyes met and held.

“Indeed, maybe I can teach you how to fish sometime.” Guillaume turned his head to the side looking at the girl with a curious expression. He looked almost like he was peering into her soul. It gave Abigail the creeps.

“Hunting with my father was the best time I ever had. I think fishing would be just as fun.” Abigail broke eye contact with the old man first, getting up and dusting herself off, disguising a shiver. 

“I have lessons with Stephen in a few minutes; I know he doesn’t like it when I’m late.”

“Yes, heaven forbid something didn’t go his way.” Guillaume paused before he quirked an eyebrow at Abigail as she turned to leave. The girl shook her head; sometimes she didn’t understand these two old guys.

~

Abigail lay on her bed listening to her mp3 player, staring up at the ceiling. Harpsichord lessons had gone well she was starting to pick up on it slowly. She still preferred to listen to her parent’s music. A very wide range between her mothers music and her fathers. A lot of classic rock and pop with music from the 2010’s here and there. The girl wondered if Stephen listens to anything but classical.  


The song “Dog and Butterfly” by Heart was playing and she was reminded of Stephen and Guillaume listening to the lyrics. “We're getting older the world's getting colder, For the life of me I don't know the reason why, Maybe it's livin' making us give in, Hearts rolling in taken back on the tide, We're balanced together ocean upon the sky.” Abigail wondered how they met, if they had known each other for a long time. Her mind wandered to the small crawl space door, and she got up, leaving her mp3 player on the bed, her headphones were wireless so should could still hear her music.

Digging in her backpack she found the key she had hidden there days before untouched. She was being nosy, but she wanted to find out more about the two gentlemen they were an interesting mystery. She liked the idea of uncovering things. Maybe some day she could work for the FBI. She let out a snort at the idea of it, and then shrugged. She had had crazier ideas, who knew what the future held.

Once again Abigail found herself kneeling in front of the giant steam chest in the attic, she lift the lid holding her small flashlight with her teeth. She used the beam of light to guide where she looked through the contents. Sheet music, old photographs, what looked like newspaper articles, old ones. She also interestingly enough found passports, some foreign currencies and a few i.d. cards.

The girl picked up one of the passports, it was old, and she opened it and read the name out loud. “Will Graham.” The photo was of a much younger Guillaume, he had aged very well. She took the flashlight out of her mouth to stop herself from drooling all over the crap in the chest.

“Why would someone need a bunch of random passports.” Abigail mumbled to herself rifling through more documents. She shrugged and continued shifting papers and looking at old photos. She put the flashlight back in her mouth to use both hands. One article caught her eye she carefully removed it from the tidy stack of papers and read the headline.

“Kitchen Nightmare: Hannibal the Cannibal!” Both eyebrows rose at that she sat back on her heels, to read the whole newspaper clipping. She got half way down the page when she saw what looked like a mug shot of someone who looked just like a younger Stephen. The flashlight clattered to the floor, the beam of light bouncing all over the walls. Quickly Abigail picked the flashlight back up and power read through the rest of the clipping. She put it back in the chest and hastily pulled more articles out of the stacks. 

“The Tooth Fairy Vs. Hannibal the Cannibal.” 

“FBI consultant dies, taking down two serial killers.”

The girl could not believe what she was reading, it was all to fucking insane. She couldn’t stop reading. It was like a train wreck and she could not look away. At the same time, she felt a sort of excitement and wonder at it all. Abigail had to know more. 

“The bodies of one, the former Chesapeake Ripper now known as Hannibal “The Cannibal” Lecter, and one Will Graham have not been recovered. Rumors of footage from a camera at the crime scene show Mr. Graham taking both Dr. Lecter and himself over a cliff behind the house.” 

Abigail’s mind raced what was going on. If Graham and Lecter were dead, how was it that they were now here as old men in some fucking huge ass house living like millionaires. It made no sense to the girl. Unless… the girls eyes went wide. They had to have faked their deaths or something, and everyone or almost everyone thinks that they are dead. All but... Ms. Atwell, maybe. Did she suspect? Had she known and left Abigail here with these two, knowing who, and what they were? She had a million questions. 

Why was an FBI agent person, “consultant” whatever he was, here with a serial killer? Was Guillaume a killer also… it made no damn sense. Had Ms. Atwell knowingly left her foster daughter here so that they would kill her? Did her foster mother know about the things Abigail herself had done and want to get rid of her…

Abigail dumped everything back into the chest, not even caring to put it back in its rightful place. She ran into her room, slammed the attic door shut, she paced the room throwing things in her backpack and put on her low-rise chucks. The girl tried to calm herself, not even sure what she was going to do. Biting her lower lip she shouldered her bag and clattered down the steps to the first floor. 

She had nearly collided with both Stephen and Guillaume on her way towards the front door. “Abigail?” The younger of the two old men said, as the girl pushed past.

She didn’t even stop; she yanked the door open and ran. Her heart pound in her chest as she raced down the long drive way, her chest heaved; she could not even bring herself to look back.

~

Guillaume had a look of surprise on his face. Stephen for all his micro expressions actually looked slightly shocked. “Please tell me, you had nothing to do with this.” Guillaume rubbed a hand across his face, pushing his glasses aside.

“Hannibal…What did you do?”

“I assure you dear Will,” The older man paused for a few seconds before continuing.”…this time I had nothing to do with any of this. I am as much in the dark as you are.” Hannibal had his hands in the pants pocket of his three piece suit; he licked his lip before turning to face Will, head on.

Will was putting on his beanie hat; he had a very serious look on his face. He met Hannibal’s eyes evenly, face just as impassive as the older man. Will turned away and took a set of car keys from one of the hooks by the front door. “Well we better go fetch her, and you… are coming with me. And no… we aren’t going to kill her.” Hannibal just nod with out a word and followed Will out the front door, it clicked shut behind the two older men.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the not so big reveal. Guillaume is Will Graham and Stephen is Hannibal Lecter. What will happen to poor Abigail...


	6. Another broken teacup for a Mad Tea-party.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will, Hannibal and Abigail just having conversations. Like any normal murder family.

Abigail found herself sitting at a closed convenience store not very far from where Stephen and Guillaume’s house was. She didn’t care, not right then, the only thing that mattered was that she wasn’t in the house. What if they came to look for her, they obviously couldn’t leave survivors if they were serial killers. The girl inhaled sharply nearly coughing on her own breath, as realization hit her like a ton of bricks.

 

The meat she had thought familiar was, people… they… she… The article had said “Hannibal the Cannibal”. He ate his victims or part of them. Abigail put her head between he legs and breathed in deeply, trying not to hyperventilate. Her mind kept playing her father’s voice in her head on loop.

 

 _“Eating her is honoring her_. _Eating her is honoring her_. _Eating her is honoring her_. _Otherwise, it's just murder_ ”

 

The girl held her head between her palms mouth open in a silent scream. What kind of twisted fate was this that she would end up being “Babysat” by two cannibals. When her own father had been killing girls and feeding them to her mother and her. It all felt like a life time ago. Abigail was keeping secrets of her own though. Maybe if she told Stephen and Guillaume they wouldn’t need to kill her. Abigail would keep their secrets.

 

The young girl had tried to call Ms. Atwell on her cell phone. She stared at the glass screen as the call ended with no answer. Of course not, why would she pick up her damn phone when her foster daughter called. Too logical, right… right. Abigail heard a car approach and turned her head to see a black Bentley pull up a few feet in front where she sat. She froze like a deer in headlights, and the headlights did indeed stream across her vision but turned off after a few heart beats. She felt like her heart would burst from her chest.

 

~

 

“There she is, stop the car.” Will said pointing to the little girl sitting on the curb out front of a closed gas station. Hannibal sat in the driver’s seat griping the steering wheel a little too hard. He slowed the car and put it into park, turning off the headlights. The older man cut the engine and sat with both hands gripping the wheel hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

 

As soon as the car was turned off Will was sliding out of the passenger side door. “Hannibal, come on.” He turned back around and leaned down, arm resting on the car door to stare at the older man.

 

“No, I think you had better go. Not me.” Will stared at him as he said that, and the younger mans reply was. “Hannibal. Get out of the car.”

 

“Will”

 

“Get. Out. Of. The. Car. Please.” Will turned his head to the side, with an amused look on his face; he slammed the car door shut. Hannibal had never really been able to resist, when Will was being so demanding. He let out a lung full of air through his nose, and opened the car door.

 

~

 

Abigail hadn’t decided whether if she was about to get up and run or not. Guillaume moved slowly towards her he didn’t look mad or threatening, just serious. Stephen approached even slower; he seemed as if he was a completely different person. He had the air of a predator to him, and it scared her. She didn’t dare meet either of their eyes.

 

“Abigail, Is everything alright?” Stephen asked, meeting Guillaume’s gaze above the girls head.

 

The girl didn’t know what to say. She remembered that they didn’t know that she knew about them being murderers or serial killers. Maybe that promise Guillaume had with Ms. Atwell was for them to kill her. Abigail’s ten year old imagination was working on over drive all the different things that could happen, and why.

 

“Would you care to explain why you, ran for the hills?” Guillaume asked as he carefully lowered himself down to sit on the girls left side. Stephen mirrored the younger man and sat on her right. She felt trapped, but tried not to show how scared she was.

 

“You promised Ms. Atwell, that you would get rid of me, didn’t you? That’s what your deal was.” Abigail stared at screen of her cell phone, it had faded to black.

 

Stephen and Guillaume exchanged glances behind Abigail’s back. “What is it that makes you think we are to get rid of you, Abigail?” Stephen inquired.

 

The young girl thought about it for a few seconds trying to think of something careful to say and not panic, what came out of her mouth was not at all what she had planned. “Are you going to kill me?”

 

“You have not given us cause to do so Abigail.” Was Stephen’s answer while Guillaume shot him an annoyed look over the top of her head.

 

“What Stephen means, is that we have no reason to kill you at all, why would we do that?” Guillaume talked in the voice he used for his dogs. Calm, reassuring, and in charge.

 

“Ms. Atwell didn’t tell you about…” Abigail wasn’t sure what else to say, were they leading her in to a false sense of security. She gripped the phone tight, her palms were getting sweaty. “…about how my father tried to kill me?” She wiped her hands on her jeans.

 

“I’m afraid your foster mothers never mention that to us. “ Guillaume reassured the girl.

 

“So, then you didn’t know that my father killed girls, and that I was the bait…” She looked between the two of them, they watched her very closely.

 

“We did not, but now we do.” Stephen had a curious expression on his face when he said that. He crossed his leg over the opposite knee and rests his palm on an ankle. “The question still remains, as to why you think we will kill you, Abigail.”

 

A hundred different things where going through her mind, not settling on any one thing. She felt like she could tell them anything, and it was almost a relief. She had never told anyone that, it was a secret she had been keeping since before her parents died.

 

“I … I found a key in the wardrobe of my room, and got into the attic, and found that steam trunk with the newspaper articles, and passports.” The sentence came out like word vomit, fast and without pause. “I saw… who you really are.” She whispered her voice and lip trembling, waiting for the back lash.

 

Guillaume had a concerned look on his face. Slowly and very carefully he took the girls hands in his own making her meet his eyes. “Well, now that you know about us, and we know about you…” he paused giving her hand a comforting pat. “I can promise we will never hurt you. Isn’t that right Hannibal?” Guillaume gave the older man an expectant look.

 

Hannibal looked like he was mulling something over. He licked a lip before speaking and nods once, before turning to meet Abigail’s gaze. “Will and I, we’re going to protect you.” He reached up a hand to pet the top of her head, fondly stroking her hair. The girl moved closer to Hannibal and hugged him, he held her tight. For the first time in over a year she felt safe, and as if she was home again.

 

After a few minutes Abigail pulled away from the older man so she could look at them both. Will smiled and told the girl. “We’ll keep your secrets.” She smiled back then told them. “And I’ll keep yours.” How strange things turned out, just a short while ago Abigail could have sworn she would be a goner and now… she had no idea what to think.

 

Hannibal interrupted her thoughts. “Anyone else hungry?”

 

~

 

 

In the kitchen Hannibal had removed his suit jacket and was tying an apron around his waist. Will sat at the island counter on a bar stool watching the older man. Abigail was stand on Will’s right leaning on the counter at his elbow.

 

“I have a lot of questions…” the girl told them.

 

“Of course you do, it’s only natural.” Hannibal rolled up his sleeves and placed both palms on the flat surface of the marble, looking at his audience.

 

Will grinned at the young girl and made a face that said the floor is yours. “Ask away.” He took a sip of wine from a glass that sat in front of him. Hannibal poured himself a glass from the bottle Will had opened and let it breathe on the counter.

 

“Are you two really serial killers?” She watched Hannibal move around the kitchen he appeared very much in his element here, the “Kitchen Nightmare” headline flash behind her eyes. To her he was still Stephen; she couldn’t picture him as some deadly murderer, but at the same time…

 

“We are retired now.” Will replied staring into his wine glass.

Abigail couldn’t tell if he was joking or not so she asked. “Retired?” narrowing her eyes she played with the glass of water she held, swirling the liquid around.

 

“Hannibal was getting too old, for such dangerous activity.” Will had a devilish look on his face as he turned to watch Abigail. The girl raised her eye brows and glanced over at Hannibal.

 

“What dear Will, means to say is… “Hannibal gently placed the knife he was wielding down on the counter, as he was staring at Will, giving the best poker face. “…that he was worried about my health, as I am at least ten years his senior.”

 

Abigail was listening to the two of them with a look of disbelief on her face. She could not believe how casual they had been about admitting to being killers. Of course with out missing a beat Will was back to throwing sassy remarks at Hannibal.

 

Will let out a snort, and hiding a smile behind his glass of wine. He was taking a long sip, motioning at Hannibal with his glass. “What he means is, I was afraid he’d break a hip.” Abigail couldn’t help herself she was giggling at the both of them.

 

“Always so eloquent with your words, Will.” “Hannibal was looking down at the cutting board he stood in front of, vigilantly peeling apples and making roses out of them. “I am taken aback you are not worried that I might break a hip during other more… exciting activities.” A slow smirk spread across his face, not even bothering to look up from his work.

 

The girl watched a blush creep across Will’s features; he almost appeared humbled for a few seconds. Abigail was lost, but then again, when did these two ever make sense. On a more serious note she told them. “I know what you were feeding me, the meat… I recognized it. It just took me a few days to realize.”

 

At that Hannibal did look up at the girl, he had an interested expression. “Clever girl.”

 

“My dad… was feeding those girls to his family…I would never forget that taste.” Abigail spaced out for a few seconds lost in memories. She was brought back to the present by a hand on hers, it was Will. “He can’t hurt you anymore.” He told her giving Abigail a sad smile, he was right.

 

“I know.”

 

“Abigail would you set the table please.” Hannibal had oven mitts on and was taking some covered dish out of the oven. She moved to do so, glad for the distraction.

 

~

 

For dessert they had baked apples shaped like roses, dusted in cinnamon and dipped in honey. When Hannibal was in another room fetching another bottle of wine; she took a photo of one of the roses. Afterwards she made it the background on her phone. It was so pretty, at least that way she didn’t feel bad about eating it. She glanced at Will when she had taken the photo and he made the ‘my lips are sealed’ motion with his hand and grinned. “I wont tell, if you don’t”

Her thoughts kept going back to the articles she had found in the attic, she would have liked to ask them more questions, but she didn’t want to be so prying. The girl decided to take her time, and ask questions a different day. She really wanted to know how the tale Stephen, er… ‘Hannibal’ had been telling her; ended. When Hannibal came back, he opened the wine bottle and poured Will a fresh glass before sitting back down.

 

“You never finished telling me about the Fox and the dog Laelaps. What happened?” Abigail was giving Hannibal and encouraging look, hoping he would finish the tale. She pushed her fork around the middle of her plate waiting.

 

“Is Hannibal telling you tall tales now?” Will her turned and inquiring expression toward the older man.

 

“He was telling me about a Fox that was destined to never be caught, and a dog named Laelaps that was destined to catch everything it chased.” The young girl was impressed she had been able to recite bits of the story almost word for word.

 

Will adopted a slightly hurt and confused look, setting his glass down. With out a word he got up, and headed back through the double doors into the kitchen and disappearing outside.

 

“Did… I say something wrong?” Abigail thought she had upset the younger of the two some how.

 

“Will is sensitive about certain subjects, but I promise you, it has nothing to do with what you said.” The older man got up and gathered the empty plates. Abigail picked up her own and the silverware following Hannibal into the kitchen to help with washing dishes.

 

“What happened to the Fox and the Hound?” Abigail tried again.

 

Hannibal gave the girl a side long glance, hands submerged in soapy water. “You do not give up easily, I admire that. As for the myth, there isn’t much else to tell.” He placed a soapy dish in the sink Abigail stood in front of, letting it sink into clean water. “After many years of playing cat and mouse, the Fox and Laelaps came to a stalemate; they were a zero-sum game.” Hannibal wiped his hands dry on a dish towel as Abigail set clean dishes in the rack to dry.

 

“What is a zero sum game?”

 

Hannibal folded the dish towel and laid it on the counter next to the sink. “A Zero-Sum game is a situation, in which there is no net gain among the participants. For example, any ground the dog Laelaps lost in his chase, the Fox also lost in his lead of not being caught.”

 

“So they go no where?”

 

“Yes, When Zeus the leader of the gods viewed this zero-sum game; he was faced with an inevitable contradiction. One not being able to be caught, the other always chasing. Having no other choice Zeus then turned both beasts into stone and cast them into the stars. To this day they remain as the constellations Canis Major and Canis Minor.” Hannibal had started to unroll his sleeves when he finished.

 

“That’s it then? They are constellations…” Abigail didn’t want that to be the end. The story seemed incomplete.

 

“I shall point the constellations out to you.” The older man had collected his suit jacket. “Maybe the next time we find ourselves outside at night.”

 

“Well that escalated quickly.” Abigail was pouting, and she didn’t care if it was childish.

 

 


	7. Beware the Jabberwock, my son!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone comes knocking on the door, who could it be?  
>  Warning, there be cliffhangers afoot. -Sorry not sorry-

We lived beneath the mat,  
Warm and snug and fat,  
But one woe, and that  
Was the Cat!

To our joys a clog,  
In our eyes a fog,  
On your hearts a log,  
Was the Dog!

When the Cat’s away,  
Then the mice will play,  
But alas! one day,  
(So they say)

Came the Dog and Cat,  
hunting for a Rat,  
Crushed the mice all flat,  
Each one as he sat,  
Underneath the mat,  
Warm and snug and fat,  
Think of that!

~ **The Mouse’s tale by Lewis Carroll**

The days seem to blur by so fast, you know what they say. That time flies when you’re having fun. Abigail was having fun, she learned to fish with Will, and she had long interesting conversations with Hannibal while they cooked. Will and Abigail also had movie nights, watching old movies together with a few dogs piled all around.

She was jumping on the bed with her headphones on, listening to “Little Drop of Poison” by Tom Waits. One day after Hannibal had mentioned the Theremin. She found herself looking for music that had the instrument in it. This particular song happens to be one of her favorite songs.

“I like my town with a little drop of poison, Nobody knows they're lining up to go insane, I'm all alone, I smoke my friends down to the filter, But I feel much cleaner after it rains” Over the space of a few days she had learned so much about the two of them in little bits and pieces.

The girl had come to the conclusion that Hannibal and Will were without a doubt married, after she had been looking through more papers from the old steam chest in the attic. One had the headline “Murder Husbands” and that was it for Abigail. She decided it was true, when she realized they almost always wore wedding rings. She didn’t know how she had missed it before.

She even worked up the courage to ask them how long they had been married one afternoon during lunch. Will had shot Hannibal the most scathing look, as if it was some how his fault. Abigail just laughed it off, and said she was sorry for assuming. Will reluctantly replied that they had been married for about 15 years.

“I would have liked to think we would have been married a few years longer, but someone got cold feet.” Hannibal gave Will a slide-long glance mirth twinkling in his eyes. He had taken a delicate bite of food looking at Will the whole time.

Will was not amused and if he had been a cat, his tail would be swishing angrily. He was not touching his food. “I had a perfectly valid reason, not to marry you right away, if you recall.” His arms were crossed over his chest.

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks" was Hannibal’s only reply.

“Don’t you dare quote Hamlet at me Dr. Lecter.” At this point Will was down right scowling.

“One may smile, and smile, and be a villain.” Hannibal winked at Will who sat forward and punched Hannibal in the arm, hard.

Hannibal bit his lower lip briefly, with a look of consideration on his face. “Darling boy, you know that violence never solves anything.” The older man looked like a cat playing with a mouse, and having too much fun.

“You are so incorrigible.” Will was shaking his head, but a smile slowly spread across his features. “If I didn’t know any better it’s one reason you love me so much.” Hannibal was staring lovingly at Will as if he was his whole world.

The door bell rang, and Abigail was more then glad to go get it. She left them to be all mushy and gooey alone. It was very strange seeing them like that, maybe they had been holding back around her.

She reached the door she was to short to look out the peep-hole so she just opened it. There was a young man standing there dressed in all black. It looked expensive, but it wasn’t as fancy as anything Hannibal ever wore. The man had a slightly surprised look on his face, but he recovered quickly.

“Hello young lady, are the masters of the house home?” he had an overly pleasant look on his face when he said it.

“Um, sure one second, let me...” Abigail turned to the side she was going to yell for Will and Hannibal. Before she could even take a breath, a hand was over her mouth.

“Shh, Shh, Where are they?” the young man whispered in her ear, his breath was hot on her neck. She tried to scream, but his hand was preventing it. Shaking she raised her arm and pointed down the hallway toward the kitchen. Her heart hammered in her chest.

The man used Abigail’s body like a shield; he had produced a gun and was forcing her to walk in front of him. His grip was like a vice over her mouth. She was praying that this mystery man would get what was coming to him. They shuffled quietly down the hall and made their way into the kitchen. It was empty save for the abandoned plates on the table. Abigail let out a breath of air that she didn’t know she had been holding.

“They aren’t here. You lied to me. No more stalling girly.” He spun Abigail around to face him so fast she was stunned; he cracked her across the mouth with the back of his hand. Blood welled up on the corner of her mouth, she was now too frightened to yell or speak. The young girl flinched away from him when he shook her around the shoulders. “Tell me where they went.” He spoke very softly shaking her with each word.

Abigail was staring at the man in black unable to say a word; he was getting even angrier with her. Before he would strike her again; out of the corner of her eye she saw a blur. It was Will he had snuck up on the assailant.

“It’s not very nice to go around smacking little girls, why don’t you pick on someone your own size.” Will had the blankest look on his face, she had ever seen. The young man whirled around gun poised to aim. Will skipped out of the way and dodged behind the marble island, placing it between him and the man in black. They circled each other.

With the younger man’s attention on Will, Abigail saw Hannibal now standing in the doorway of the dining room watching the scene play out. He met her gaze, and held out his hand. “Abigail, come to me.” She did as she was told and ran to him. She took his hand and he stood in front of her, blocking her view of the fight for a second. She peered around his shoulder.

Will had the younger man in a sleeper hold, but took an elbow to the stomach. He doubled over the air knocked out of him. Free the younger man ran back through the archway away from the kitchen. “I’m getting to old for this shit.” She heard Will mumble as he straightened up breathing heavy. He clutched the counter for support.

Hannibal was standing there in his socks, some where along the way, he must have taken off his shoes. He walked around the counter and gently touched a finger to a cut above Will’s eyebrow. He nod at Will once, his lip curled for a split second in a snarl, he was now a predator, a switch was flipped and he was no longer a friendly old man, he was… a Murder husband. Wasting no more time Hannibal turned and stride down the hallway after their assassin.

Abigail moved closer to Will her eyes wide. He looked up, and searched her face. He must have been assessing the damage because, he took a clean washcloth and ran it under warm water from the sink and dabbed the corner of the young girls mouth.

“He should have never hit you Abigail; it was very rude of him.”

She took the cloth from Will and finished cleaning the blood from her face. “Who is he, do you know?” the girl was curious why someone would try to kill them. She saw Will shrug. He moved toward the archway out of the kitchen and Abigail followed close behind him. She did not want to be left alone, he didn’t tell her to stay.

“I’m sure we will find out very soon.”

~

They found Hannibal in Will’s fly fishing room, there was tackle equipment all over the walls, fly fishing lures spread out over several work benches. Their assassin was tied to a chair. Hannibal had blood all down his white shirt. He must have taken off his coat and vest, and rolled his sleeves up. Hannibal was sporting a split lip, and he appeared slightly out of breath. He looked up as Will and Abigail entered the room.

“Good of you to join me.” Hannibal held a scalpel loosely in one hand.

“I see you didn’t waste anytime catching your prey, you should take it easy Hannibal.” Will had walked over to stand next to Hannibal, and was looking the man in black over. The assailant was out cold.

“Nonsense, this is the most fun I’ve had since…” He thought about it for a few seconds. “Since… St. Petersburg, if I’m not mistaken.”

Abigail watched the both of them, they didn’t seem to care that there was an unconscious man tied to a chair. Not that the man in black didn’t deserve it. Hannibal walked over to one work bench and opened a big black medical bag. He carefully placed the scalpel down on the surface of the work bench.

He held out his hand to Will. With out a word Will walked over him and Hannibal brushed the younger mans hair from his forehead. He examined the cut there above Will’s eyebrow. Hannibal then poured something from a bottle onto a cotton ball to clean it. Afterward he placed a bandage over the minor wound, smoothing a thumb across a very faint scar across the top of Will’s forehead.

“:Abigail. Let me look at you.” Will backed away from the older man with a strange look on his face so that Hannibal could check the young girl.

“I don’t think it’s that bad.” She mumbled, she felt a little like she had ruined some odd magical moment between the two.

“I will be the judge of that.” Hannibal placed two fingers under the girls chin and made her look up at him. He turned her head to the side getting a better look.

He opened a small container and used his pinkie finger to pat a small amount on the cut at the corner of the young girl’s mouth. “It shouldn’t scar. Keep it dry, and we’ll put more ointment on the cut later.” He wiped his hand on a cloth and ran his hand over her hair in a feather light touch. “You are a brave girl. I’m proud of you.”

“I don’t feel very brave.” She stuck her chin out stubbornly.

“Don’t be petulant.” Abigail narrowed her eyes at the older man, not sure what he meant. He gave her one of his mischievous little smirks.

Hannibal packed away his medical supplies and turned back to rest of the room surveying the man tied to the chair. The girl took in the scene, and saw that the young man in the chair also had a corded rope in his mouth gagging him. Better so he can’t make noise when he wakes up? She snort at the idea.

“Does this happen a lot?” Abigail inquired.

“Often enough.” Was Hannibal’s only reply.

“Kill enough people, and I suppose, sooner or later families want revenge.” Will was leaning against a counter looking rather indifferent.

“What are we gonna do with him?” Abigail had her hands on her hips.

“What is with this we stuff? I don’t think you’ll be taking part in any of this, young lady.” Will gave her a stern look.

“Oh come on… seriously? He attacked me. I think I should at least be aloud to watch.” She promised herself should wouldn’t throw a fit, but it was something she really wanted. The girl wanted to see him suffer for smacking her, and for trying to hurt her family. With a start she realized she viewed the three of them as a family unit.

Will was giving her a skeptical look. A variety of emotions played across his face. “I cannot believe we are having this conversation.” Finally he let out a long exasperated sigh. Abigail hoped it meant he was giving in, but she didn’t want to get her hopes up.

“Please, I’ll stay out of the way. You won’t even notice me.” Abigail resisted the urge to beg.

Both Will and Abigail turned at the same time to look at Hannibal as if he was the final authority on the matter. He stood with his hands folded behind his back watching them both. He must have been waiting for them to stop arguing.

“What do you think Hannibal?” Will raised his eyebrows at the older man. He frowned at Hannibal, and then a worried expression flashed across the younger mans face.

“Hannibal?”

Abigail tried not to panic he didn’t look well, and she had never seen Will so worried. “Is he ok?” she asked Will.

The older man didn’t reply, Hannibal had a pained look on his face and he brought his right arm up to his chest. He clutched at the work bench closest to him. Will was at his side in a heart beat, as the older man started to slide to the ground. Will caught him, and took a steady grip on his arm.

“I’ll… I’ll be fine.” Hannibal managed to say at least. He was out of breath.


	8. The Mock Turtle's Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This amounts to be the trios most busy day ever. It's not a full day in the life of a murder family if there isn't some fine dining and a little fisty cuffs in an alley.

Humpty Dumpty lay in a beck.  
With all his sinews around his neck;  
Forty Doctors and forty wrights  
Couldn't put Humpty Dumpty to rights!

~ James Orchard Halliwell

 

 

 

 

 _“Its 2:13PM, you’re in Miami, Florida, and your name is Hannibal Lecter.”_ A soft voice whispered over and over.

 

Hannibal had been rushed to the ER at the Mercy Hospital in Miami; it was the closest hospital to where they lived. He had been checked in under the name Stephen McLaughlin. Later Will and Abigail were sitting in his room with their heads together talking in hushed voices.

 

Every so often doctors or nurses would move in and out of the room, marking charts and going about their business. Each time one of the orderlies came into the room, Will jumped up, hailing them with questions. After the fifth time it happened, Abigail pulled Will back to his chair to sit down; worrying the doctors might kick them out.

 

“How did you and… Stephen meet?” she hoped to distract the older man with questions. He turned to look at her suspiciously.

 

Will rubbed his face with a hand, taking off his glasses, and pressing palms into his eyes. “Hasn’t _Stephen_ already told you every thing there is to know?” He said Stephen as if it were a swear word. His voice was muffled by his palms.

 

Abigail shook her head, and then remembered he couldn’t see her, with his face buried in his hands. “No he hasn’t told me anything in fact. He just told me a story about constellations and a Greek myth.”

 

“Why are you so interested in a couple of…” He seemed to be searching for the right words. He settled on. “Couple of retired old men.”

 

Abigail was leafing through a boring magazine from the end table next to her chair. “I have to know. You two are the closest thing I have to a family now.” She was determined that it be true.

 

“We are not your family, Abigail. What about Ms. Atwell, you'll be leaving soon.” Will finally looked at the girl with a wary eye.

 

“Vanessa Atwell… doesn’t care about me. I think she might know about the two of you, also. She wanted me to snoop around your house while I was here. I think I’m starting to see why...” She made it sound so matter of fact; she didn’t even look up from her magazine.

 

“She WHAT!” Will’s voice raised a few octaves, while he was schooling his face back into something that wasn’t rage and frustration. “When were you going to tell us? Did you even plan to tell us?” Will had slumped down into his chair looking very put upon.

 

Abigail looked up from her distraction, sparing a glance to the old man next to her. “Well, it didn’t come up, and it really didn’t seem important… until earlier.” She coughed at the word earlier, watching Will from behind her magazine.

 

“Fucking perfect.” Was the groan from the older man.

 

“Yea never mind that we got a man tie…” Will quickly put his pointer finger over his lips, in a silent ‘shhh’ so she would stop talking, she took the hint.

 

“I’m surprised you’re not the one who had the heart attack, when you’re always making that annoyed frustrated face, looks like you’ll pop a vein.” Abigail mentioned, trying to make him laugh. She tossed the magazine back on the table.

 

Will looked at the girl in genuine shock, giving her a small laugh. “Yea, who’d have thought…but we don’t know if he had a heart attack, mums the fucking word around here.”

 

“So tell me instead how you guys met. We have nothing better to do.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him eagerly.

 

Will gave her ‘the look’ that said everything and nothing at all. “You aren’t going to let that go, are you?”

 

“Nope.”

 

The older man cleared his throat and wiped his palms on his jeans. “I’m not sure where to begin.”

 

“So start at the beginning.”

 

“Ok, back in 2013… I think it was. I started working as a profiler for the FBI, under a man named Jack Crawford.” He was speaking barely above a whisper, but since they were sitting so close together she could hear every word.

 

“He told me he wanted to ‘Borrow my imagination.’ Because my mind is unique.” Will sounded very bitter at the mention of this.

 

“Unique how?” Abigail watched him struggle with his emotions.

 

“Pure Empathy, it’s called.” He licked a dry lip pausing to look at Abigail before continuing. “It allows me to assume the point of view of anyone I come in contact with.”

 

“So… like you can tell what I’m thinking?” She had been braiding her hair, but she stopped at that, to look at the older man more closely.

 

“It’s more like feelings, rather then thinking.”

 

“Like a superpower almost… or you’d be more like a super villain.” The girl chuckled and Will turned his head toward the girl, his face blank. He looked like his eyes were about to roll into the back of his head. “If you are done.”

 

“Fine…You can’t deny the idea though.” She was grinning at him from ear to ear. “Have you ever seen the movie Despicable Me?” It took everything she had not to double over in laughter at the idea of Hannibal and Will being two super villains with their adopted daughter.

“No…” Will was shaking his head, he did that a lot.

 

“You should its funny, and you both could stand to laugh a little more.” She got up and re-positioned herself in her chair, to tuck a leg underneath her body.

 

Sighing, Will slouched lower in his seat, he craned his neck so that it rest on the back of his chair. “ _Stephen_ told me a long time ago, that the first time we met, the first time he lead eyes on me. That it was honest to god, no kidding, sure enough, once in a lifetime, love at first sight.” Will was grinning up at the ceiling.

 

“Did you believe him?” Abigail wanted to learn more about how they fell in love.

 

“Hell no…” Will laughed.

 

“Why not?”

 

“It’s complicated.”

 

“You mean more complicated than, this? Us…who we are.” The girl had finished braiding her hair, it was true, they were as weird as it got, how complicated could it be.

 

“You have no idea…” Will was rubbing his temples with both hands, his glasses rest on the arm of the chair. “We really shouldn’t be talking about this here.” He was trying to change the subject.

 

“Will you finish telling me at home?” the girl asked.

 

“Perhaps, maybe later.” With that Will stood up, and took the few steps to the side of the hospital bed where Hannibal was laying. Will reached down; taking the older mans hand in his own, and leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek. Afterward he stood straighter, turning back to Abigail. “Probably not the best idea, to tell him I was worrying about him so much.” He looked so very sad.

 

The young girl nod her head in agreement. “I won’t tell if you don't.” She was repeating his words back at him. He smirked and turn back to lean over Hannibal. She didn’t know if she would ever get used to seeing the two of them be, so affectionate. She would say it was cute, but she was fairly certain if she ever repeated that aloud someone would get pissed.

 

~

 

An hour or so later Abigail was coming back from the vending machine. She found Will where she had left him, dozing in a chair that was pushed right up to the side of Hannibal’s bed. She went back to her own chair and flopped down, wishing she had her mp3 player. She heard noise, and looked up to see Hannibal moving. Will was awake in a hot second, like he some how knew that Hannibal would choose that moment to wake up. She wondered if that was how twin’s felt. Or maybe it was just a married couple thing, but then again, her parents had never been that… in sync.

 

Hannibal looked disoriented, and confused. Will leaned in close to whisper in the older mans ear. Abigail couldn’t hear what he said. A few seconds later nurses came into the room, and the girl moved out of their way.

 

“Mr. McLaughlin, do you know where you are?” one of the nurses asked Hannibal. He nods answering their questions. “You appeared to have had a mild cardiovascular syncope. It’s isn’t life threatening, but it does put you on the list for future heart problems.” Hannibal had a sour look on his face.

 

“I am well aware, thank you.” He moved as if he were about to sit up.

 

“Now Mr. McLaughlin, you should be resting.”

 

“Where are my clothes?” Hannibal was pulling out his IV and getting up. “Where are my pants?”

 

“Sir you can’t leave. You…” the nurse was stammering. Hannibal was staring at the floor; he turned his head toward the nurse eyes still cast down. Slowly raised his eyes to look at her straight on, face cold.

 

“I’m checking myself out.”

 

Will was ushering the nurse out of the room, and closed the door behind her, she was still arguing when he close the door in her face. He then handed Hannibal a suit on a hanger, snapping the curtain shut, so he could dress.

 

Pulling the curtain aside he was dressed in a three piece suit, it was not as flashy as he normally wore. It was dark grey with a wide heather grey chalk stripe. He had the jacket draped over an arm. He stared at Will and Abigail who were standing idly in the corner of the room.

 

“You two, you put me in here.” Hannibal made it a statement, pointing at them, he shoved a hand in his pocket. They looked like two rabbits huddled together, exchanging glances.

 

Will tossed the keys to the Bentley to Hannibal and he caught them with his free hand. “Would you rather we let you die?” Will just sassed the older man, as they filed out of the room.

 

“I was not dying.” This came from Hannibal who was leading them to the car.

 

“Could have fooled me.” Abigail replied under her breath.

 

“If it had been a heart attack, would you rather we just left you to your own devices at home? So what, you could die on me?” Will seemed like he was getting angry. “You don’t seem very concerned about your health, since you literally just checked yourself out of the fucking hospital.

 

“They said it was mild." Came the older mans deadpan reply, Hannibal was looking at Will across the top of the Bentley, he then ducked into the car, before Will could say another word.

 

In the car Abigail sat in the backseat listening to the two of them bicker. They were worse then a married couple, they were like two little kids. Now she really wished she had her headphones. Hannibal missed the turn to home.

 

“Hey, you missed the turn.” Will was pointing and practically waving his arm in Hannibal’s face. “Clearly you aren’t well enough to be out of the hospital, but here we are.”

 

“We aren’t going home, just yet.” Hannibal said, before Will could start bitching again.

 

“Wait, why?” Will had a confused look on his face. Hannibal never took his eyes off the road.

 

“Yesterday I made us reservations at NAOE.” This time Hannibal did look at Will’s face for a few seconds, before turning his eyes back to the road.

 

“How did you get reservations there, so quickly?” Will ran his fingers through his hair. “Wait, never mind. Sometimes I forget who I’m talking to.

 

“What is NAOE.” Abigail sat forward as much as her seat belt would allow.

 

“It is a 5-star Sushi restaurant on an island, Brickell Key, here in Miami.” Hannibal looked at Abigail in the rear-view mirror.

 

“I look like shit.” Will was grumping fantastically in the passenger seat.

 

“I have an extra suit of yours in the trunk, and I might have just the thing for you also, Abigail.” Hannibal seemed very pleased.

 

“Always ready for anything.” Will had a resigned look on his face as he stared out his window.

 

Hannibal stopped at a Chevron gas station about 10mins away from where the restaurant was. Abigail and Will changed outfits. Will in a lovely dark blue three piece suit with black pin-stripes. His hair slicked back, only a few curls betrayed their orders to stay in place. Abigail now wore a dark purple silk velvet evening gown, with gold trim. It fit her perfectly. She was afraid to sit down, and winkle her dress. Will finally told her to get in damn the car.

“Don’t ruin this for me. I’ve never worn anything so fancy before.”

 

“You look splendid Abigail.” Hannibal was turned around in his seat, beaming at her.

 

~

 

Abigail had never tried sushi before, once she did though she wanted to try it all. Hannibal was very happy Abigail liked the food. He proceeded to indulge her in anything she wished to taste. Will’s mood seemed to have improved slightly once he had food in him. The two gentlemen shared a bottle of champagne. Will insisted on ordering warm Sake, and Hannibal toasted the younger man with an enthusiastic “Kanpai” which Abigail learned meant cheers.

 

Just this morning they had been running around the house chasing an assassin. And now they were eating sushi, in some fine 5 star restaurant. It was curious, and only got more bizarre knowing, that as soon as they went home; they would have to deal with their trouble maker. Who in fact was tied up in the basement where Will had left him. The girl didn’t think the day could get anymore strange.

 

On their way back to the car, they cut through an alley. The sun was just starting to set, turning the horizon a brilliant shade of pink. Will and Hannibal were walking arm and arm; she suspected Will was slightly more than tipsy. Abigail followed them staying close. Just before they turned the corner, four young men appeared down at the end of the alley blocking their access. They were being loud, shoving one another, horsing around. Hannibal and Will slowed to a halt. They moved to the side to let the four guys pass on by. One stopped in front of the older man and looked Hannibal over.

 

“Look at these two fancy mother fuckers. Where you going Grandpa?” The one who had stopped, pat Hannibal on the shoulder. Hannibal looked down his nose at the kid and brushed his hand away like it was a spec of dirt. “Who do you think you are Mr. Fancy-pants.” The guy was annoyed that the older man had brushed him off.

 

Will turned to Hannibal and gripped his shoulder briefly. “He’s just dumb kid, Hannibal. Don’t kill him.”

 

“How incredibly rude of you.” The kid had moved to grab Hannibal again, but fast as lightning the old man had his hand around the kid’s throat, choking him. Apex Predator mode Hannibal was back. He was applying pressure; cutting off the young mans air.

 

Abigail was standing with her back to the wall, mouth wide open and eyes bulging at the whole fucking scene. She swore Hannibal was going to kill someone. Will had slipped away around the corner, while Hannibal bore down on the kid, so that he was forced to his knees. Where the fuck had Will gone?

 

“I was a surgeon, a well renowned psychiatrist, a doctor for many years; I’ve killed many men, and loved only one man, with the passion a flea, like you could never begin to understand. That’s who I am.” He paused shaking the kid by the neck. He suddenly then let go, shoving the young mans solar plexus with the flat of his hand, knocking him back onto the ground at the feet of the other three goons he was with.

 

The young man coughed, sucking in air, and whirled to his feet. He was ripping off his jacket. One of the other guys yelled. “What the fuck man.” Another replied. “Let’s show these old bastards whose tough.” All four men flipped out switch blades standing in a row facing Hannibal.

 

Will appeared again, from around the corner with a shotgun over his shoulder, he lowered it to waist high, cocking the gun with a loud ‘click clack’. “Now, it’s only fair I even the odds.” All four young men dropped their weapons with a clatter.

 

Hannibal turned to look at Will, he had an angry glint in his eye. “While I appreciate your help, dear Will, I believe the term ‘I can handle myself’ applies.”

 

“You just got out of the god damn hospital.” Will and Hannibal turned toward each other, the younger of the two kept the gun trained on the gang of idiots, but his eyes searched Hannibal’s face.

 

“There are only four of them.” Hannibal said it like it was he was talking about playing the harpsichord or baking a cake.

 

“How about this, I’ll let you fight them one at a time, ok?” Will gave the older man an amused look. He then turned his head back to the four young men and told the dumb kid who had started it all. “You better pick up that knife, if I were you, You are going to need all the help you can get.”

 

Hannibal moved up close to Will, almost flush against him. He gently touched a hand to the younger mans cheek, sliding it to hook behind his right ear. Leaning forward he spoke low in a language Abigail didn’t recognize. “Aš tave labai myliu.” Hannibal pressed a light kiss to Will’s temple, and turned away to face his first opponent.

 

The first guy had picked up the knife, the other three shouting encouragement to their friend. He was wielding the switch blade in a fist like grip. He came at Hannibal high, the old man grabbed a hold of a wrist, side stepping, and blocked it with his upper arm, He then twisted the kids arm down around his back, holding him in place. The kid immediately yelled in pain, letting the knife drop, falling right into Hannibal’s waiting palm.

 

Will had moved to stand next to Abigail who wasn’t able to take her eyes off the fight. Laughing and pointing, Will told the girl. “Oldest trick in the book.” She turned and gave him a look of awe, eyes wide. They were full of so many surprises.

 

Hannibal used the kids arm as a lever and shoved him back into his friends again. He held the knife up elegantly like a fencer would wield a foil. “You were holding it wrong, my dear boy.” He showed them the right way to grip the weapon, and demonstrated a lunging forward movement. “You hold it like this, smooth.” He then tossed the knife into the air, back to the kid. “Try it again.”

 

The young man caught the blade with a frustrated expression, while his friends told him to get the old man. Hannibal held his arms out at his sides waiting for his challenger to come at him again. The kid lunged forward holding the knife how the old man had showed him, only for Hannibal to disarm him once again. Hannibal was like a cat playing with a mouse, his hair was no longer immaculately brushed to the side, and it was hanging in his eyes. He was hunched slightly forward, light on his feet, and his mouth was open in a grimace.

 

Abigail turned back to Will, “How come you aren’t helping him?”

 

“I doubt he needs my help, he never really did, not very often anyways. And I imagine he needs this right now, more then I do.”

 

“He’s toying with them isn’t he?” Abigail was starting to feel like Will when she caught herself shaking her head.

 

Will shrugged pulling one of his silly faces, grinning he told the girl. “He doesn’t like being retired.”

 

The fiasco ended quickly after that, the four young men didn’t put up much of a fight, once they saw what Hannibal was really capable of. He had thoroughly kicked their asses; they looked fucked up, with black eyes, and split lips, one had a broken nose. Hannibal didn’t even have a scratch on him. They had ran off after a while, hanging onto each other, one had a limp. And just like that Hannibal let them go, Abigail was surprised yet again.

 

“You should have, at least let me bring home a doggie bag.” Hannibal came to stand next to Will with a toothy smile, it was very unlike him. Abigail made a face.

 

“Did you just…” The young girl began

 

“He did.” Will sighed, and laughed when he saw the dumbfounded look on Abigail’s face. “After twenty plus odd years, I’m used to all the puns. I’m honestly not even surprise anymore, I’ve come to expect them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aš tave labai myliu- Lithuanian translation, I very much love you/I really love you.


	9. Pool of Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fancy Pancake art for breakfast and Hannibal and Abigail just having conversations.

There's little to relate.

I saw an aged aged man,

    A-sitting on a gate.

"Who are you, aged man?" I said,

    "And how is it you live?"

And his answer trickled through my head,

    Like water through a sieve.

    

He said "I look for butterflies

    That sleep among the wheat:

I make them into mutton-pies,

    And sell them in the street.

I sell them unto men," he said,

    "Who sail on stormy seas;

And that's the way I get my bread –

    A trifle, if you please."

 ~ First two verses of **Haddocks' Eyes by Lewis Carroll** from _Through the Looking-Glass_

 

 

It was well after sunset when they finally returned home. As much as the young girl would have liked to stay up longer, truthfully she was exhausted. It didn’t stop her from trying to pester the two old men to let her stay up; they were having none of it.

 

“Off to bed with you, young lady.” Hannibal was being too reasonable. The two men stood at the bottom of the stair that lead up to her little attic room. Will was leaning on the railing, while Hannibal casually waited for the girl to go to her room. “Don’t forget to hang up your dress properly. I would hate to find it on the floor.”

 

Abigail opened her mouth to protest, before she could get a word in. “I’d listen to Mommie Dearest here, she hates when clothes aren’t put away in their proper place.” The sarcastic look on Will’s face was nothing compared to the way Hannibal was glaring at him.

 

Hannibal was down right indignant. “Hold your tongue.” The older man looked like he had no words in answer, and acquiescent to chuckle momentarily.

 

“Never!” Was the smart ass reply.

 

As they turned to leave Hannibal snaked an arm around Will and put him in a friendly choke hold. Will pushed him off laughing, as they exchanged amicable banter the whole way down the hall.

 

Abigail hung up her dress in the wardrobe, next to the fine suits already waiting. She trailed finger tips over the beautiful fabric. She had a feeling that, the prisoner in the basement would be a figment of all of their imaginations by tomorrow morning. Deep down she knew that the second her head hit the pillow, Will and Hannibal would be doing unspeakable things to the man in black. Things that haunt her in her nightmares, in a way she was rather glad they would be taking care of business.

 

~

 

In the morning, Hannibal had made pancakes. He was way too cheerful for this early in the day. He went so far as to form the pancakes into intricate flower designs. She had no idea how he had done it, but they looked amazing.

 

“Lily of the valley for our dear Abigail.” Hannibal commented, while presenting the girl with a plate, three perfect medium size pancakes that looked like flowers, neatly arranged. There were sliced strawberries for garnish. He moved around the table and gently set Will’s plate down with a smile. “Gloxinia for my remarkable boy.” Will raised an eyebrow at the older man. Hannibal placed his own plate down, and unbuttoned his suit jacket before taking a seat. “And I have claimed, bold and beautiful Zinnia, for myself.” He pulled his cloth napkin from its place and folded it skillfully on his lap. “ _Itadakimasu_!” The older man said before they all began to eat. Abigail screwed up her face in confusion.

 

Will saw the girls face and with a smirk he told her. “Allow me to explain, for once, I’m able to do so.” He told Abigail that ‘Itadakimasu’ was the Japanese way to start the meal with the phrase. “It roughly means, I gratefully receive.” Will inclined his head towards Hannibal. “Hang around Dr. Lecter long enough and you start to learn a thing or two.” Hannibal was smiling clearly proud of Will. “He’s like Wikipedia in that way.” The younger man brought his fork to his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “…suddenly hours later your heads spinning and you know a bunch of things, you didn’t know you needed to.”

 

“You sully praise, with snide remarks.” Hannibal wasn’t looking at Will any longer, focusing on his food instead. If she had thought an old man couldn’t pout, he was doing so with aplomb.

 

“Don’t tell me I’ve bruised your delicate sensibilities.” Will closed his eyes for a minute, looking like he was trying not to laugh. Abigail could not believe that Hannibal would be acting like a sullen child, but then again people made it to the moon, apparently.

 

“ _Je ne voulais pas te blesser_.” Will mumbled in French. The girl had no idea, that he spoke anything but English. More surprises to add to the ever growing list.

 

“ _Vous êtes pardonné_." Hannibal appeared shy, nodding to Will. And that was that. They went back to eating as if the whole debacle had never happen.

 

“How many languages do you speak?” she asked the two of them. Moving the conversation along.

 

“I only speak French, and a little bit of Lithuanian, and not very well.” Will told Abigail, while pouring more honey over his plate.

 

Hannibal looked up from his plate, pausing, and then continued eating with out answering. He finally wiped his mouth on a corner of his napkin, and set it down. “Besides English and my native tongue. I also speak Italian, German, Russian, Polish, French, Spanish, and, to some extent, Japanese.”

 

Abigail was amazing, how could someone learn that many languages. She pushed her food around her plate, not sure what to even say to that.

 

Sensing the young girl’s mood, Hannibal added. “I was for a time, mute as a child. After I regained my voice. I made it a personal choice to never let anything stop me from speaking, not even the barrier of language.” Abigail considered that as good an excuse as any.

 

~

 

After lunch Abigail was sitting on the upper deck painting her toenails. Will had gone fishing, and Hannibal had disappeared after their Harpsichord lessons. The dogs Didymus and Ambrosius sat with the girl on the long deck chair. Mason the pig kept trying to sniff at her toes, while the paint dried. “No, No, No!” she brushed him off. “You can’t sniff that, it’s bad for you.” Muttering under her breath she added. “You’ll mess up my paint job, while you’re at it.”  

 

After being reprimanded a second time the pig flopped down on the deck, lying in the sun. It was a very hot day. The sun over head was sweltering. Sweat rolled down her back, she wore sunglasses and a large floppy hat, she had found in a closet. She had giggled ceaselessly at her find, and insisted she wore it outside. It made her feel like some classy old lady. All she was missing was some ridiculous cocktail, and probably a cigarette. Since she wasn't allowed either of those things, she had settled for a sweating glass of iced tea, and a fancy ice pop.

 

The door from the house opened and Hannibal stepped outside silent as a mouse. She turned her head toward the noise, and the dogs lifted their heads at the same time. Hannibal took one look at the girl with her absurd hat and shades, and let out a small laugh. “Enjoying yourself, I see.”

 

Abigail nod, “Its ok if I wear this hat right?”

 

“Consider it yours.” Hannibal took a seat on the opposite side, deck chair. He was wearing a cream colored panama jack hat.

 

“Will doesn’t like to talk about the past very much does he?” The girl began out of no where.

 

“Not usually. I take it you peppered him with questions, and he skillfully evaded them.” Hannibal was lounging, stretched out on the chair, ankles crosses.

 

“Yeah, something like that. It was in the hospital.”

 

“What is it you wish you know.” Hannibal had his head back resting, the hat had slipped down low over his brow, and he had both eyes closed, looking peaceful.

 

“Tell me how you both fell in love.” Abigail sat up hoping he would tell her another story.

 

Hannibal used a finger to push the hat up out of his face, and opened one eye to glance at the girl. “I do believe Miss Hobbs, that you are a hopeless romantic.”

 

Abigail shrugged she wasn’t even going to try to deny it. “It reminds me that there are still nice things in the world, when there is also so much darkness.”

 

“Very eloquently put.” Hannibal went back to pretending to sleep. He had both hands resting on his stomach; he looked like a very masculine sleeping beauty.

 

“Will told me for you, it was love at first sight. Is it true? I thought that only happen in fairy stories. “The girl had finished her Popsicle and was fiddling with the stick waiting for Hannibal to start talking, she needed answers.

 

“Did he now.” The old man sounded like he was considering something. “And yes, for me it was something akin to love at first sight.”

 

“Did he love you too, was it like that for him also?” Idly she rest against Ambrosius, scratching the dog behind his ears, she deciding he was her favorite.

 

“At first, no. It took dear Will a long time to be able to admit his feelings for me.”

Abigail stared over at the older man from behind her sunglasses. “What did you do? That must have sucked.”

 

“I waited.”

 

“That’s it you waited? You don’t seem the type to just sit around.” Abigail kept picturing Hannibal as a Rapunzel type sitting in his tower waiting for his prince charming. It didn’t work.

 

“I assure you, waiting was only half the battle.” Hannibal sound amused.

 

“He said he worked as a…” She tried to remember the word. “Profiler for the FBI, and that they used him for his unique mind powers.” She took a sip of her iced tea, wiping condensation on her jeans.

 

Hannibal chuckled at the mind powers comment. “Indeed, they did. I worked along side him for a time also. They hired me to do a psychological profile on Will.”

 

“What’s that mean?”

 

“When you work for the FBI, they often have you evaluated by a psychiatrist.

 

“Why did they want him evaluated?” Abigail wasn’t to sure what he was talking about.

 

“They considered him unstable at the time. And I was hired to prove otherwise.”

 

“Oh I see. What happen then?”

 

“We became close friends, among other things.”

 

“So wait, if you…” The girl struggled to put it into words.”…killed, and ate people, and Will worked for the FBI. How did that even work out?”

 

“The head of the behavioral science team Jack Crawford; was grooming Will to catch the Chesapeake Ripper.”

 

“Oh… OH! You… You’re the Chesapeake Ripper; I saw it on a newspaper clipping.” She was talking faster and looking at Hannibal from over the top of her sunglasses. A light blub might as well have gone off over Abigail’s head and she sat up positively giddy. “You’re the Teumessian Fox, and Will is the dog Laelaps!”

 

Hannibal smiled sitting up mirroring the girl. “I knew you would figure it out eventually, clever girl.” He lowered his head slightly giving her a smart look.

 

“Why did you say that they got cast into the stars? Since you and Will are still here obviously.” The girl watched as the sweet dog Codetta wandered over to nose at Hannibal’s hand.

 

“The becoming of constellations is symbolic to how we were reborn.” Hannibal obliges the stubby little dog who begged him for his attention.

 

“What do you mean reborn? How did you become reborn? That sounds like dying.”

 

“In a sense yes, we did die and were reborn as you see us now, as Stephen and Guillaume.” Codetta jumped up on the lounge chair and sat in the old mans lap. “Will took us over a cliff and left it up to chance. As luck would have it, we survived. We took on new identities and traveled abroad for twenty years, never staying in one place for too long.”

 

Abigail had a million questions she didn’t know what to ask first, she settled on the first thing that came to mind. “How did you pick your aliases? Was it just random… or?”

 

Hannibal looked up from petting Codetta with a curious expression on his face.” Stephen is from the famous St. Stephen who is recognized as a saint and the first martyr in Christian theology. As for Guillaume, it’s the French form of William. He hated it of course, at first. I refused to change it.”

 

Abigail laughed, she could see it now. Hannibal calling Will, Guillaume and claiming he couldn’t change it, since it was already on the passport. She got up and stretched, inspecting her toe nails; they should have been dry by now. She tested the polish on her big toe, it was dry. “How come you guys didn’t get married right away, since you were free to do whatever you wanted, under new names?” Abigail looked up from her crouch; she stopped poking at her painted toenails, satisfied.

 

Hannibal cleared his throat and stood up, moving to the railing he gazed out across the water. “You are very nosey Miss Hobbs.” He turned to grin at her, before turning back to lean against the deck. Abigail shoved her feet into her empty flip flops and walked over to stand next to Hannibal.

 

“I’m in too deep now, why shouldn’t I know? I wanna know everything.” She grinned at him pushing her big buggy sunglasses up the bridge of her nose. “Besides, what are you gonna do? Kill me if I ask too many questions?”

 

Hannibal gave her his most impassive face that clearly said he was not amused. “It is not wise to poke the bear, as it were.” Abigail looked at the old man slightly startled.

 

“Forget I asked.” She told the older man, peeking at him from the safety of her gigantic shades.

 

“You have nothing to fear, Abigail. I promised Will, that no harm would come to you. And I always keep my promises.” Hannibal was staring at her, and no amount of hiding behind sunglasses would keep the chill from running down her spine.

 

“Always?” the girl asked.

 

“Always.” Hannibal replied nodding once.

“We didn’t get married right away because Will wasn’t ready, and I was not going to force him to marry me, if he did not want to. That would have been unspeakably rude.” The older man answered her question from before.

 

Abigail was taking by surprise at the sudden change in subject, but nod understanding.” I see that makes sense.”

 

“Believe it or not, Will asked me to marry him.” Hannibal was grinning; the familiar look of mischief was back in his eyes.

 

“How did he ask you, was it romantic?” She leaned forward interested, she couldn’t help herself.

 

“As romantic as one might expect, but nothing we have ever done has been conventional.” Hannibal was twisting the wedding ring he wore around his finger. It looked like a nervous habit, but she had never seen him do it before.

 

Will cleared his throat from behind them, Abigail jumped, Hannibal didn’t even flinch, like he some how knew that Will was lurking. “What are you two up to?” He held a cooler in one hand, and wore a fishing vest.

 

“Welcome home.” The older man’s voice dipped low. “I see you had a fruitful venture.” Hannibal turned, eyes roaming over Will as if he was inspecting him from afar.

 

Will just nod his head, and set the cooler down, by the door. He took the vest off, wiping as his brow. “It went well, I landed a Little Tunny Bonito, I figured that would please you. I’m sure you’ll make something excellent with it. The Bonito are fun once hooked because it puts on an aggressive, furious fight.’ He pushed his grey curls back from his forehead with a grin.

 

“Shall I make it for dinner tonight?” Hannibal asked

 

Will shrugged looking indifferent. “I concede to the Chef. It’s your choice.”

 

“Very well it’s settled then.” Hannibal moved to pick up the cooler and head into the kitchen. He paused and turned to Abigail. “Care to help an old man?” He winked at her. Abigail followed him. She had started to really enjoy cooking with the old man.

 

~

 

Hannibal sat up in bed, he wore a pair of reading glasses, and they were perched on the end of his nose. He was skimming from his tablet, swiping through articles on an open app of TattleCrime.com.

 

Freshly showered Will walked in wearing his usual sleepwear, toweling his hair dry. Hannibal looked up from his tablet to watch Will, for a few seconds before going back to his reading. “Some day…” Will started “… you are going to have to start acting your age.” He slung the towel over his shoulder.

“Just what is that supposed to mean?” Hannibal took off his glasses and put them on the end table next to his side of the bed. He wasn’t expecting a fight, but he was always prepared for anything with Will.

 

“The whole time I’ve known you. You’ve never been frighten of anything. So what is eating at you now? Getting old? Dying?

 

Hannibal brought his hand up to his mouth, running a thumb across his bottom lip; he took his time to reply. “No”

 

“What then?”

 

“Being useless. When we were young there was a point to everything. Now nothing makes sense anymore.” Hannibal took a deep breath, held it for a second and let it out.

 

Losing the towel Will climbed into the bed next to Hannibal. He lay on top of the covers and scoot close, so that he could hug the older man around the waist. He was resting his chin on Hannibal’s arm. “Will you be ok?”

 

Brown eyes met blue and held. “I feel old and worn out.” Hannibal broke the eye contact first looking down, and ran his hand over the top of Will’s head touching unruly curls.

 

“You are old.” Will smirked at his old man hoping to lighten the mood. “You’ve been busy.” Will rubbed his stubble across the back of Hannibal’s hand. “You were terrorizing hospital staff, beating up young men, and chasing assassins.”

 

The older man devotedly ran his thumb over the fading scar on the right side of Will’s cheek. ”Won’t be long until anyone will be able to kick my ass.” Will looked up at him, eyes wide. It wasn’t often that Hannibal swore. “It won’t be long until I will be helpless in a fight.” Hannibal leaned down and kisses the scar on Will’s forehead “Useless.” He muttered.

 

Will sat up, and carefully placed two fingers under the older mans chin. With his other hand he framed his husbands face, caressing his cheek. Slowly, with caution he tipped Hannibal’s face toward him, and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. Will pull away, still holding the older mans face. His throat was working to as if it was hard to swallow. “You’ll feel better in a day or two.”

 

Suddenly Hannibal fell forward to rest his head on Will’s chest, who had opened his arms to allow it. The younger man wrapped his arms around Hannibal. “I noticed you were telling Abigail how I proposed to you. But you stopped at the good part.” Will was smiling into the top of Hannibal’s head.

 

Hannibal straighten up, still resting in the circle of Will’s arms. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

 

“Don’t play coy with me Dr. Lecter, it doesn’t become you.” Will rolled his eyes and Hannibal gave him ‘the look’

“That, my dear boy, is hardly a story for a young girl.” Hannibal brushed his hair out of his eyes slicking to the side.

 

“So tell it to me.” Will wagged his eyebrows at the older man.

 

“You already know how that story ends.” Hannibal blinked, and made his face unreadable.

 

“I know, but I want to hear you tell it to me.” Will raise a suggestive eyebrow at Hannibal.

 

“ _Let it be a fairytale then_. _Once upon a time”_ _Hannibal_ _began._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the type of Pancakes that Hannibal made.- http://resources3.news.com.au/images/2012/05/10/1226352/181051-saipancakes.gif
> 
> Language of Flowers.
> 
> Gloxinia- Love at first sight.  
> Zinnia- Lasting affection, in memory of an absent friend(lol was meant to be a cannibal pun), constancy, goodness, daily remembrance  
> Lily of the valley- Sweetness; Tears of the Virgin Mary; Return to Happiness; Humility; You've Made My Life Complete
> 
> Here are photos of each flower.
> 
> Gloxinia- http://www.senior-gardening.com/images/gloxinia_photos/120214-01-11051c-lg.jpg  
> Zinnia- https://pixabay.com/p-285504/?no_redirect  
> Lily of the Valley- http://data.hdwallpapers.im/white_lilies_of_the_valley.jpg
> 
> Translation of the french Hannibal and Will spoke. 
> 
> “Je ne voulais pas te blesser.”- I did not want to hurt you. (or something similar.)  
> “Vous êtes pardonné."- You are forgiven.
> 
> Side note- Next chapter will be a long awaited smut chapter. It's also a flashback. So put on your big girl panties folks. XD ignore me, I'm in a good mood. Forgive me for any grammar mistakes. -head desk-
> 
> Hannibal and Will's personal song for this chapter. Young and Beautiful by Lana Del Rey.


	10. How long is forever?... Sometimes, just one second.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here there be smut, This is a flashback of their 'rebirth', and eventually how Will proposed to Hannibal. It wouldn't be a fairy tale if there wasn't a bit of story telling. 
> 
> Once upon a time.

“I stared at Jean-Claude and it wasn't the beauty of him that made me love him, it was just him. It was love made up of a thousand touches, a million conversations, a trillion shared looks. A love made up of danger shared, enemies conquered, a determination to neither of us try to change the other, even if we could. I love Jean-Claude, all of him, because if I took away the Machiavellian plottings, the labyrinth of his mind, it would lessen him, make him someone else.”  
― Laurell K. Hamilton, Cerulean Sins

 

 

 

_Argentina_ _, summer of 2017_

“ _Let it be a fairytale then_. _Once upon a time”_ _A red opera house curtain slowly parted, to the sound of a deep accented voice in the dark._

Barely six months after the fall Will and Hannibal were still enjoying the Argentine countryside. They had been keeping a low profile, which meant no killing. Will knew that it wouldn’t last, but he wanted to stave off drawing attention as long as possible. They were living in Ushuaia, capital of Tierra del Fuego. 

It had been a surprise from Hannibal; he refused to tell Will where they were going. "Ushuaia, fin del mundo, principio de todo" 

 

Sighing Will turned his head to the older man, and licked a dry lip. ‘Feel free to translate, you know very well I don’t speak Spanish.”

 

Hannibal looked up from the book he was reading. "Ushuaia, end of the world, beginning of everything" He went back to his book, paying Will no mind.

 

Will was attempting to bore a hole into the book as if it would get Hannibal’s attention. “How very poetic and fitting Dr. Lecter.” They had taken a ship from the Buenos Aires seaport, and the whole way Hannibal would not tell Will where they were bound. He knew he would not get an answer from the good doctor so he didn’t bother asking a second time.

 

Ushuaia is commonly regarded as the southernmost city in the world. It served as a jumping off point for adventurers and explorers, who were on their way to Antarctica. It was a center of population, commerce, and culture here at the end of the world, in the land of fire. It would not be a fitting destination, if it didn’t have attractions aplenty. Hannibal made sure they always had something to do. The older man did not like to sit idly by. He chose to live life to the fullest and Will was swept up in the tide. His only choice was to swim or be dragged under.

 

Hannibal had secured a house overlooking the Beagle Channel. The view of the port was first rate. If you didn’t mind the cold, it was perfect. Will compromised with the older man, allowing him free reign of their itinerary. In exchange they did not kill anyone. The younger man had explained why there was a no killing rule, and Hannibal had been reasonable saying that it was for the best, for now. Will knew what ‘for now’ meant. It didn’t bother him, he was content to sightsee and be ushered around by Hannibal, for now.

 

Their house was not extravagant by Hannibal standards, but it was more spacious and modern then anything Will would have picked. They were supposed to be lying low after all. For Hannibal it would have to do. They were sitting in the kitchen over breakfast. Will sipping his coffee, still in his boxers and undershirt, something’s never changed.

 

“Did you know Argentina has the highest number of psychiatrists per capita in the world?” Hannibal gave Will a tiny smile over the top of his coffee cup. He held it with both hands as he blew away steam rising from its surface.

 

Will scratched his beard, watching Hannibal for a moment longer then necessary. “I’m not even surprised that you know that. You are always a fountain of information.”

 

“I will take that as a compliment. Thank you.” The older man set his coffee down, he had a strange look on his face. Will would have guessed shy, but with Hannibal you could never be to sure.

 

They had hardly talked at all about the fall it was a sensitive subject, and Will was more then happy to forget about it. Hannibal never pushed the topic, and Will took advantage of his silence on the matter. They also kept their touches to a minimum; Will could not bring himself to initiate touch. Hannibal did not touch him unless Will had made the first move or if it was a happy accident. A brush of a hand here, a bump in passing there. They had their own rooms and separate bathrooms, so it made it easier to be two ships passing in the night.

 

Will would wake with the fog every morning. He took a run around the neighborhood. The younger man stopped each time on his way home, to watch the ships moving in and out of the strait. He wondered how much of the Channels location; made up how Hannibal chose this spot for their residence. Everything Hannibal did was with purpose. He gave meaning to everything minuscule thing he did. He wiped the sweat from his face with his shirt, with a huff. One of these days he would ask Hannibal, but not today.

 

One day after his run, he came into the house expecting to find Hannibal where he almost always found him, in the kitchen. He wasn’t there this morning. Will debated whether or not to search the house, and whether or not he should be worried. He was a grown ass man, and did what he pleased, but Will was also, sort of his unofficial keeper. Will bit his lower lip between his teeth, and shook his head. He punched the wall lightly two times, trying to make up his mind.

 

With a groan he kept hearing in his head dialogue from an episode of sponge bob he had once seen. _‘He poisoned our water supply, burned our crops, and delivered a plague unto our houses!’ ‘He did?’ ‘NO, but are we just gonna wait around until he does?!’_ Fucking. Hell. Why was a cartoon so relevant? His mind made up, he turned around, and nearly collide with the devil himself.

 

“Fuck, Christ. I didn’t hear you. Where were you?” It came out angrier than he had intended.

 

Hannibal eyes roamed over the younger man face and he raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “You are just on time. I was in the basement.” He checked his watch.

 

“Oh.” Will hated how dumb he abruptly felt. He would have liked to stay angry, but it petered out as quickly as it appeared.

 

“Would you care to join me? I would like to show you something, Will” Hannibal repositioned his watch and pulled at the sleeve of his dress shirt.

 

“Should I be worried, Dr. Lecter?” anticipation bubbled in his stomach and threaten to roll up his throat like acid reflux.

 

“I find your lack of faith disturbing.” The older man stated, holding up a hand, but continued before Will could say anything.” I’m appalled you even had to ask.”

 

Will was prepared to be angry again, but…”Did you just… just quote Darth Vader at me?” Will had his hand over his mouth stifling the burst of laughter that boarded on hysterical. “You did, didn’t you?” He ran both hands over his face, doubled over. “Oh my god, you did.”

 

Hannibal looked amused with a glint of something else in his eye. “Are you finished?”

 

Will straighten up still holding his side. “No.” He was smiling so hard his face hurt. “I needed that.” He coughed brushing a stray curl out of his eye. “Sorry, but that was just too good.”

 

“You seem to be working under the assumption that I am stuck in a different century.” Hannibal chuckled shaking his head at Will. “It’s always a pleasure to make you laugh, Will.” He added, the look he had earlier was back in his eyes. It was a sort of lingering heat, which made the younger man want to shiver.

 

“If you didn’t act like it, I wouldn’t have to assume, now would I? And you know what they say about assuming.” Will stopped smiling and getting serious again, remembering the basement.

 

“Indeed, if you would follow me.” Hannibal moved to the basement door, he held it open for Will, and only followed when the younger man was on his way down the stairs.

 

~

 

“This was not what I was expecting.” Will looked around; Hannibal had converted the basement into a sort of home gym. Weights, a punching bag, and a large wrestling mat in the middle. To the side there was even a contraption for doing pull-ups.

 

“Dare I ask what you were expecting?” Hannibal watched him carefully as Will wandered around the room.

 

“Probably best not to ask.” Will looked over his shoulder briefly, before going back to inspecting the weights. “Is this what you plan to do ‘for now’?”

 

“It is always good to be primed for the unanticipated, I suppose.” Hannibal walked over to the punching bag and trailed a finger across its length. Will couldn’t help staring, it seemed vaguely seductive. “I thought perhaps you would like to supplement your routine with something besides running.”

 

Will’s mouth was dry, making it hard to swallow. “Are you offering to train with me?”

 

“If you wish it, I would appreciate the company.” Hannibal had moved away from the punching bag, he stood with both hands in his pockets, looking relaxed.

 

Will looked up and met the older man’s eyes; the familiar turn of phrase stirred something deep in side. After a few heart beats, Will nod his head. “Ok then.”

 

~

 

And so it went, Will would go running and when he came home, Hannibal was always waiting for him with a bottle of water and a hand towel. They would move right into their new training regimen. Pull-ups, push-ups, and a little work with the weights performing dead lifts. They would take turns spotting each other. Hannibal preferred the use of ones body weight to work with. Will found out the older man still went swimming.

 

Will inquired leaning against the wall while Hannibal was doing pull-ups. “What is the wrestling mat for? We never use it?” He had just finished doing a set of push-ups. Sweat had soaked through his shirt, and he wiped his neck on a towel.

 

The older man finished his set before answering. When he was done he dropped to the ground, and turn to look at the mat in question. “I had the notion…” He began, but stopped. Hannibal appeared to be reassessing his reply. “I had hoped, I might to teach you a bit of Bartitsu.”

 

Will did not know what Bartitsu was, and he told the older man as much. “That doesn’t even sound like a real thing.” In fact it sounded like a person who served drinks at a coffee shop.

 

 

Hannibal looked like he was reading the young mans mind, and gave him a concise smile. “It is a hybrid fighting style used by Sherlock Holmes in Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s novels. It was a lost art until it had a revival in the early 2000’s.”

 

Will laughed slinging the towel he held over his shoulder. “Why am I not surprised.”

 

“Bartitsu is thought to be the best elements of a range of fighting styles, blend into a unified whole.” Hannibal moved to take a drink from his water bottle, keeping an eye on Will. “The name means self defense in all its forms.”

 

Joking around Will asked. “Which does that make me, Holmes or Moriarty?”

 

“Are you referring to me being your arch-nemesis, or the fact you took us over a cliff, Will?” Hannibal’s face was entirely unreadable.

 

It stung, worse than he thought it would. Will made a pained face, and cleared his throat, but nothing came out. He didn’t know what to say. It still hurt too much to talk about. The scars from their wounds were still pink and tender. The topic was like fresh paint, still wet on a wall. He had walked right into that trap, with his own damn question. He should have seen it coming. With out bothering to reply Will left Hannibal alone in the basement.

 

~

 

In the shower he had the water as hot as he could stand it. He leaned against a wall, body supported by his forearm, head bent nearly to his chest. He felt stuck in limbo, stuck in place forever, never moving forward. Steam rose in billowing puffs making his bathroom hazy. The water was hot enough to turn his skin red.

 

His old friend the nightmare stag appeared to keep him company more frequently, he discovered. Will found, the more he drew away from Hannibal the more often the stag showed up. If he was close to the older man, it was as if the stag sensed he wasn’t lonely anymore. He knew with out a doubt that Hannibal loved him as much as he was able in his unique way. Will was fairly certain that he loved the old man too, but fear gripped him like a vice. It was the one thing that kept him from running to Hannibal with arms open.

 

He shivered even under the heat of the water. Just the thought of being touched by Hannibal sent a chill down his spine. The need to be intimate with the older man was so strong it brought a weak involuntary noise to his lips. It scared him. It was that fear; the kind that made him kill, to be with Hannibal, that gripped him tight. Fear of a love so strong, you would do anything for it.

 

Will rest his forehead on the cool tile of the shower, he let frustrated tears fall down his face to mingle with the water on its way down the drain, along with his remaining misgivings. There was no doubt left in his mind now, that the love was shared equally. But still he couldn’t bring himself to cross that line. Once he did there would be no going back. The last step before signing your soul over to the devil. He wasn’t ready to hand the keys to the kingdom over to Lucifer just yet. Maybe it was spite, or pure stubbornness, but keeping that last remaining part of himself from Hannibal, was one last resistance.

 

Even if he had tried to stay in denial about his feelings for Hannibal, his body always betrayed him. More and more lately Will noticed that just the sound of the older mans voice would send an electric current through his body that was directly linked to his arousal. Just the thought of it now, had him growing hard. He closed his eyes. He allowed himself to touch, here alone in his shower, where it was still safe. But for how long?

 

~

 

Will had avoided Hannibal for a whole day; he hadn’t even left his room to eat. He wasn’t hungry. He imagine that food right now would taste like sand. Even late, well after dinner, when he finally got hungry he refused to leave the confines of his room. When there was a light knock on his door he ignored it. There was not a second knock. He waited ten minutes and got up to open his door. There was no one there. He looked down and saw a small tray of food. Resting on the tray next to the covered plate was a single white rose. He took the tray into his room and set it on his desk. He sat staring at the tray and the rose for a few minutes, it felt like hours. Will picked up the rose, smelling it, before setting it aside, to start eating.

 

The next day he left his room, but still avoided Hannibal, he knew the older mans routine enough that he didn’t have to see him, if he didn’t want to. He still refused to eat dinner with Hannibal, and again that night there was a knock on his door. Same as before, there was a tray of food and a single white rose. During the day Will had found a vase. He put the first rose with some water on his desk. He added the second rose, to the vase, misery loves company after all.

 

This went on for twelve days until he had a full blown dozen of roses in a vase on his desk, and they were all at different stages of decay, the newest additions still fresh and soft as silk. After the first two roses’ Will had rolled his eyes thinking it was just a temporary ‘forgive me’, but this… this was a completely different animal. As ridiculous as it seemed, it had an undertone of something deeply romantic that made Will’s mind reel.

 

Twelve days of hiding, twelve days of not seeing Hannibal at all. He might not be able to leave the older man, but he could evade him. They still shared the house and he could still feel his presence like ozone before a storm, it was heavy in the air. He couldn’t stand it anymore, taking the newest rose with him he crept down the hall to where the older man’s room was. Will left the rose on the floor outside Hannibal’s door and knocked once. With that he left and went back to his own room for the night. It was his own form of silently accepting the apology.

 

~

 

Will came back from his run, and just like he knew he would be, Hannibal was waiting for him. He gladly took the offered water bottle and they both made their way down to the basement. They stayed in comfortable silence all the way through the first couple of sets, and Will broke first. “I’ll let you teach me that Bartitsu thing.” He blurt out, not pausing for a breath.

 

Hannibal pulled himself up from a crouch, after finishing a set of push-ups. “Excellent, shall we start tomorrow, Will?” Hannibal looked overly pleased with himself, but said nothing about Will’s breathless word vomit.

 

Not knowing what else to say Will asked Hannibal about Bartitsu, while doing his after workout stretches. “So tell me about it, what does it involve? Is it like a martial art, it sounds like one, from what you said before.” Hannibal was following him up the stairs into the house. Automatically the older man moved to make them breakfast.

 

Hannibal explained as he prepared their bacon and eggs, something simple. “As I said before, it is self-defense in all its forms. Borrowing the best elements from a range of the most useful martial arts, and fighting styles.” Will got out plates and set them out on the table, with silverware. He poured them both a glass of orange juice.

 

The older man continued when Will didn’t say anything. “Along with formal fighting styles of certain Japanese forms, French Savate kickboxing, classical British style boxing, and European wrestling, its creator added elements of hooligan street fighting.” Hannibal plate their food and sat down across from Will at their small table.

 

“Street fighting?” Will raised a curious eyebrow starting on his eggs first.

 

“Yes.” He paused taking a bite of his food before going on. “Street fighting was looked down upon during the time of Bartitsu’s creation, but E.W. Barton-Wright knew it would add an advantage to the martial art.” The older man seemed positively giddy, if you could call it that. He had a twinkle in his eye that Will would later come to know as pure mischief. “The street fighting element allows you to utilize ones environment to the best advantage. It adds to spatial awareness, being aware of oneself in your space.”

 

“Interesting. I can see why you find it so useful.” Will smirked at the older man briefly taking a drink.

 

“It also shares part of the Swiss Vigny stick fighting style, for a walking stick or cane. I don’t follow that style as much as I probably should. Since I don’t carry around a cane or a walking stick.” Hannibal returned Will’s smirk with one of his own. 

“Makes sense” Will was nibbling on a piece of bacon, taking all this information in stride. He had to wonder, given that Hannibal was always working with multiple trains of thought at one time. He suspected this was one of his subtle ways of getting closer to Will, under the guise of training for now. 

“Would you care to join me later on Tren del Fin del Mundo” Hannibal was folding his napkin and placed it neatly on his empty plate. Will was confused at the strange change in subject.

 

“What is that?” Will got up and picked up both their plates to do the dishes.

 

“Train of the End of the World. It used to shuttle prisoners to and from Ushuaia’s penal colony, but now it’s a heritage railroad. It tours parts of Tierra del Fuego National Park.” Hannibal had a strange look on his face, like he wanted to say more.

 

“Ok what time did you want to go?” Will turned his head to glance over his shoulder, before drying their plates and putting them on the dish rack.

 

“As soon as you shower and change I presume.” Hannibal stood clearing the rest of the table.

 

“Sure, Ok that sounds fine.” Will knew there would be no arguing and he did want to see the national park, he had done a little reading up on it, and hoped to check it out at some point.

 

~

 

On the train the tour was a 45 minute ride narrated in both Spanish and English much to Will’s relief. But much to his embarrassment a little girl mistook them for a couple. She wasn’t necessarily wrong, but then again… and to make matters worse Hannibal had put his arm around Will’s shoulders and lean in close to whisper in his ear.

 

“Argentina was the first country in Latin America to legalize same-sex marriage in 2010.” He didn’t know if it was the information or the close proximity to which Hannibal insisted whispering seductively in his ear, but it made the younger man fidget in his seat. “The first same-sex couple to marry in Latin America was also married right in Ushuaia just a few months before it was legalized.”

 

Will turned his head to look at Hannibal their faces only a few inches apart since Hannibal had not moved back, when he leaned in. “Are you trying to tell me something Dr. Lecter?” He swallowed hard; the narrated tour now white noise in the background.

 

The question must have taken Hannibal by surprise, because his eyes went wide for a faction of a second, which anyone else would have missed. Will did not miss it, and that tiny display got the cogs in his mind turning. It was very evident more so now that the older man craved his touch, almost if not more then Will wanted, no needed, Hannibal’s.

 

“I was not implying any such thing, dear Will.” Hannibal very slowly removed his arm from the younger man’s shoulder, but trailed a thumb across the back of his neck doing so. That was it, that was the last straw for Will. Something in him snapped like a bow string pulled taut. And it might as well have been Cupid’s bow, because it struck Will right in the heart.

 

Will shuddered, his body working on adrenaline, he felt like he was on some kind of high. His fight or flight response making his heart hammer in his chest. His hands were clammy and he was sweating nervously. The whole way home his nerves sang. He could barely contain his energy. There was an electric current between them, as if they both shared the same feelings. Hannibal was better at not letting anything show; to any outsider he would appear perfectly normal. Not to Will, he could feel it.

 

The minute the door was closed behind Hannibal, Will threw himself at the older man. Fists balled in the folds of his suit jacket. The younger man had backed Hannibal up against the door, shoving him in to it. “Is this what you want?” He growled at the older man, bringing his face inches away from the other mans. Will was breathing heavy chest heaving.

 

Hannibal wore his best poker face, his hair had fallen across his eyes, at the force of being shoved. He licked a lip not saying anything at first. “I am content, with which ever pleases you, Will.” He looked down at the limited space between their bodies. “In any form it takes; I wish to be apart of your life. That is enough for me.” He added with a sigh.

 

Will searched the older mans face, it felt like being on the cliff again, Hannibal confessing and being shy. Will feeling…just feeling, everything. There was no cliff to push themselves over, and he didn’t want to not this time. Instead he did what he had wanted to all those months ago. He kissed Hannibal.

 

He used the grip he had on the older mans suit jacket and pulled him roughly in close with a jerk until their lips touched. The second they made contact, Hannibal’s hands were framing his face, bruising. Teeth nipping at the younger man lips. Will made an incoherent noise, and didn’t even care. He lightly ran his tongue across Hannibal’s bottom lip, and slowly pulled away gasping for air. He hadn’t realized how bad he was shaking until he didn’t have the older man to lean against.

 

They both stood there for a span of minutes just staring at each other, neither one able to move, and slightly in shock. Hannibal was idly picking at Will’s shirt collar. “I… We…” was all Will manage to say before Hannibal silenced him with another crushing kiss. Taking that as a hint the younger man starting clawing at the others shirt and his suit jacket, while their lips mingled. Hannibal pulled away first, and took Will’s hand, who was staring at the older man helplessly.

 

“I would at least…” He paused finally looking up at Will’s face. “…like to make it to one of our bedrooms. If that is alright with you.” Hannibal gave him a slight grin. Will choke back laughter just nodding, eyes wide and bewildered.

 

They made their way down the hall in an awkward dance of limbs and brief kisses. Tripping over each others feet. It was shocking to see Hannibal this way, the most ungraceful he had ever seen the man, but some how it was comforting. They unceremoniously pushed their away into Hannibal’s room the door banging open loudly in their wake.

 

Will started unbuttoning Hannibal’s shirt and the older man just stared down at the hands that fiddled with the fastenings. Will noticed he had the look on his face, of a drowning man. “Get used to it, its happening.” The younger man told him, with a chuckle.

 

“Contrary to popular belief, some things I will never get used to.” Hannibal replied as he slipped out of his shirt, he draped it over the back of a chair. Will realized with a start he was really doing this. That there would be no going back, it was the point of no return. To his revelation he was fine with it.

 

Will pulled his own shirt over his head, and tossed it behind him to be forgotten. He stalked closer to Hannibal, and carefully placed both hands on either side of the older mans hips. He took his time to take in every inch of exposed skin; he dug his thumbs into the flesh at Hannibal’s lower stomach, he knead his fingers into the scar on the older mans right side.

 

The older man cupped Will’s chin and brought his face up until they were almost kissing again, but their lips never met. “My eyes are up here.” That look of mischief was in his eyes.

 

Will huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “Shouldn’t I be the one saying that? Considering the questionable way you look at me sometimes.” He was smiling and couldn’t help it.

 

“Forgive me, I cannot help I have good taste.” Hannibal wore a smug look, but slid the hand holding the younger mans chin up, until it rest just behind Will’s right ear. With his other hand he traced the smile across the younger mans abdomen with his fingers, they never broke eye contact.

 

Will shook with anticipation and the adrenaline from before was back. It lurked under the surface as if it never truly left. He let out an audible sigh. Unexpectedly Hannibal pulled him into an embrace, but instead of a deadly hug, it was a kiss, their chests pressed together skin to skin. The older man had both hands on either side of Will’s face, kissing him deeply, their tongues probing each others mouth.

 

Hannibal finally pulled away still holding the younger mans face between his hands. They were both breathless. “This was not…” He removed his hands to work at the buttons of Will’s jeans.” …what I was expecting.” He was throwing Will’s own words back him. Will stilled the older mans hands, by placing his own over them. He took over, and slipped out of his pants, taking his boxers off with the jeans. It was Will’s turn to watch Hannibal shamelessly stare at his naked body. He was clearly enjoying the view, they were both painfully hard. He could see Hannibal’s erection tenting the front of his dress slacks.

 

Will took one of Hannibal’s hands and slowly trailed it down his stomach until it was pressed up again his cock. He just wanted to see the look on the older mans face as he touched Will for the first time. He was not disappointed. Hannibal’s lips were parted and he didn’t seem to be breathing, he went completely still. Laughing Will told him. “Breathe.”

 

Hannibal let out a low growl, and out of no where pushed Will with force back onto the bed, he bounced once and lay there dazed, eyes wide. He let out a yelp when the older man was suddenly there on top of him. He had forgotten how quick the good doctor was. He lay pinned under Hannibal’s arms. He was kissing down Will’s chest moving slow and taking his time to explore every inch of skin that met lips.

 

Will had his head back, and an involuntary moan escaped his throat. He had never been handled this way before, let alone by another man. He was not going to complain. He found he rather enjoyed it. He liked how rough and confidently Hannibal moved him around. He was startled back to the present by wet lips, planting slow drawn out kisses along the length of his cock.

 

“ha…” Will was just making noise and panting; he looked down and saw Hannibal staring back at him with his tongue poised over the head of his cock. “God…Fucking hell.” He let out a shuttering breath while Hannibal held his gaze the whole time he teased the tip of Will’s cock with his tongue.

 

“Breathe…” Hannibal told him. The devilish grin was back on his face. Will groan and told him to shut up. The older man was having none of that though and he had his hands underneath the younger man gripping his ass tightly, he flipped him over, as if he were a rag doll. He was pressing down on the middle of Will’s back, as he brought the younger mans hips toward his body, raised off the bed.

 

“What are you…OH.” His voice cracked unexpectedly. Will had his face now buried in the pillows to keep from making more noise. Hannibal had exposed the wrinkled skin of the younger mans hole, and was pressing kisses and licking it with careful attention. The younger man was clutching at the bedspread as if it were an anchor. He shivered when the older man trailed his tongue down the smooth expanse of skin just under his balls. Will had to bite down on the sheet to keep from making more embarrassing sounds. He was squirming under Hannibal’s touch. He reached down to touch himself, the need almost unbearable, but Hannibal swatted his hand away. The older man locked both of Will’s hands behind his back to prevent him from touching himself.

 

Hannibal was relentless in his pursuit of teasing Will, driving him to distraction. He licked long, powerful strokes across the tight circle of Will’s hole, and every time the younger man twist or jerked, he held his hips in place harder, with a firm grip. Slowly the older man pushed his tongue into Will’s entrance, and he could hear the younger man gasp, even with his head buried deep in the pillows.

 

Will turned his head to the side, enough so that he could speak. “Enough.” He croaked. He was twisted around to look at Hannibal. “If you keep going, I’ll come, and I don’t want to yet.”

 

Hannibal instantly let the younger mans hips go, wiping his chin on the back of his hand. “As you wish.” He gracefully lay down next to Will, running a hand up his side to rest just over the younger mans heart. “What else did you have in mind, Will?”

 

Will thought about it for a second, playfully fisting his own cock, enjoying the way Hannibal watched his every move. “How long have you been waiting to do that?” He couldn’t resist teasing the older man.

 

Hannibal’s eyes flicked up to Will’s face, something crossed his features. “Long enough.”

 

Will pat Hannibal on the knee, and settled down next to him. “Take these off, your slacks.” He watched the older man do as he asked no hesitation. He slid them off along with his boxer briefs and dramatically dropped them off the side of the bed. It made Will laugh. He took a moment to admire the beauty of Hannibal, he drank the sight of him in. Touching him gingerly; running rough hands across the older mans stomach. He paused at the scar on his right side, he bent down and plant a kiss to it, and this drew a sharp breath from Hannibal. “What I want…” he paused to grab a fist full of the older mans hair sitting up and lowered himself down to whisper in Hannibal’s ear. “…is to fuck you.” He had a satisfied smirk on his face.

 

He could see the older mans throat visibly working. He loved drawing reactions from Hannibal. They were so rare, but he was starting to learn more and more buttons to push. Hannibal looked up at Will that heat was back in his gaze. “I will never deny you anything, Will. So long as it is within my means.” He reached up his hand and passing it across the top of Will’s head, gripping curls between his fingers.

 

That was it for Will; he knew he would never grow tired of romantic and eloquent Hannibal. He loved him for many reasons, and that was just one of them. He bent forward kissing the older man hard, trailing his hand from the scar on his side, to slide it along the length of Hannibal’s shaft. The older mans eyes fluttered in pleasure, lips parted farther to deepen their kiss, while Will lightly squeezed Hannibal’s cock. Will broke their kiss to mumble “Lube?” against lips.

 

Hannibal gave him a smile, pressing a kiss to the corner of Will’s jaw. “ En un momemto, mi amor.” With that he got up and stride into his bathroom, returning with a small bottle. Hannibal handed him the container of lube, slinking onto the bed, like a tiger, crawling up to sit level with the younger man. Will watched him, unable to tear his eyes away. Hannibal will always be like some giant wild cat, you could sleep in the same bed with it, and it would tolerate you, but you would never know if one day it would decide if it was hungry enough to eat you. Something about that thrilled and scared the shit out of Will. “You called me Mi Amor. Doesn’t that mean my love?” Will laid a kiss on the back of Hannibal’s hand.

 

“Si, your learning.” The older man smiled at Will adoration pouring off him in waves. The intensity of it gave the younger man goose bumps.

 

Will trailed kisses up one side of Hannibal’s long arm. He then pressed him back onto the bed; he loved to see the older mans hair messed up. There was something very erotic about it. He made a mental note to fuck it up any chance he got. He pushed Hannibal’s knees apart and settled between them. He was hard again; it didn’t take much when he was near the older man, he was also fairly certain if Hannibal tried hard enough he would be able to make Will come just with his voice. It made him chuckle at the thought of it.

 

“What amuses you dear Will?” Hannibal lay back propping himself up with pillows.

 

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you. And I mean that in the sincerest manner.” Will was grinning down at the older man as he opened the container of lube and poured an adequate amount in his hand, setting the bottle to the side. “It’s only because I fear what you might do with that information.”

 

“The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown” Hannibal slide lower down onto the bed, bringing his knees up, with his legs splayed for Will.

 

With out another word the younger man steadied himself with a hand on Hannibal’s lower stomach, and touched two fingers to the older mans entrance. He had never done this before. But he was all in now, all his chips were on the table. He wanted to be here and he needed everything Hannibal had to offer, and Will was going to take it, and run with it. With slick fingers he nudged the tight skin, cautiously opening Hannibal up. He added more lube to his fingers and continued gradually working his way in. He was watching the older man close.

 

Hannibal had his hands resting on the tops of his thighs, eyes half closed, lips parted. He was watching Will just as close; they were playing a game of tennis with their eyes. He reached out, lifting a hand from its place on his thigh to give himself a languid stroke, foreskin gliding over the head of his cock, to disappear again on the down stroke. Will felt himself miss that return ball, and had to keep himself from wanting to bite his knuckles. Just the sight of Hannibal touching himself drove Will wild.

 

“Take your time.” Came the low rough voice from Hannibal who was still running a hand over his length. Will swallow unable to say anything, he did as he was told.

 

He had opened Hannibal up enough for two fingers; he was using long strokes taking his time. Will placed a kiss on the inside of the older mans thigh. Working his fingers in and out making room for a third digit. He didn’t want to rush this, but he also had an urgent need to bury his cock as deep as he could in Hannibal. Right now it was the only thing on his mind. After managing a third finger inside, he bent down to kiss the older man, biting at his lower lip when he finally pulled away. Hannibal nod at him once panting.

 

Will carefully removed his fingers; he was a nervous ball of energy. He pour a copious amount of lube into his hand and slicked his cock, fisting himself, god he was so close already and they hadn’t done anything. He nudged the head of his cock against Hannibal’s hole and slowly pushed himself in. Taking it easy, one inch at a time. He was holding his breath, and he felt like his heart was going to climb out of his chest and do a fucking tap dance. At last, buried to the hilt he lay almost chest to chest with Hannibal, his arms griping under the older mans legs.

 

He couldn’t bring himself to move for a few minutes, he was breathing so heavy, and he thought he might hyperventilate. Hannibal placed a hand on Will’s shoulder; with the other hand he trace the line of the younger mans jaw with his thumb. It was oddly soothing, and it calmed him down enough that he could start working his hips, thrusting just a little bit.

 

Hannibal pulled him in for a brief chaste kiss, whispering in a soft voice. “As much as I enjoy breaking a teacup once in a while, I assure you. I am not porcelain.” He held Will’s face between his hands again, holding eye contact, the heat behind his gaze was a burning scald. The younger man made a small noise between a whimper, and a moan.

 

Will rest his free hand over Hannibal’s heart. He wanted to feel what the older man did, and he knew by the way that it pound under his touch, like a bird in a cage; that he too was barely keeping it together. That was all the confirmation he needed, he started working himself in and out, slow, but hard thrusts. He let himself get swept away by the sound of their skin slapping together. Will was biting down on his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. Hannibal stopped him with another kiss, sucking on the small wound he had made. He could taste the blood that mingled with their lips.

 

Hannibal had maneuvered them both until they were pressed up against each other, one of his hands clutching at Will’s hair. He didn’t make much noise expect for once in a while letting out a light grunt against the shell of the younger mans ear. Just the feel of Hannibal’s hot breath and those minor noises, sent a shiver through Will’s body, and forced a gasp from his lungs. Hannibal had a hand between their bodies stroking himself.

 

They were both sweating; Will’s mouth was dry from all the panting he was doing. He could feel the pressure building, he knew he was close. He had angled his body at Hannibal’s instructions to angle himself just right so that he could press up against the older mans prostate. It made Hannibal writhe under Will’s body each time, and made him bear down on Will’s cock. The younger man couldn’t keep the moans from passing his lips, when he did that. “ Nn, Hannibal… I’m… Where…“ He could barely speak.

 

Will felt the hard press of Hannibal’s cock between their bodies, and he took a firm hold on it fisting the older mans cock, making it with the last few thrusts he could muster. The older man let out a moan, it was so fucking hot. He felt Hannibal tense, and he was shuddering against Will. The younger man felt the wet slick of his release on their stomachs. He couldn’t hang on any longer, but Hannibal was there whispering in his ear. “Let me taste you.”

 

Will found himself on his back. He was staring in shock at the ceiling, with Hannibal sliding down his body to kneel between his legs. Will’s body jerked when the older man took his cock in his mouth, and toyed with the slit of the head. Will’s mouth was open in a silent moan. He scrabbled for anything to hold on to, when Hannibal took him deeper, sucking, and making obscene sounds. Before he knew it he was coming, and making involuntary noises again. He couldn’t keep from swearing. “Fuck…” Hannibal slid a thumb across his bottom lip, wiping come and saliva away. He didn’t let it go to waste he licked it while keeping eye contact with the younger man.

 

Will swallowed hard, mouth all of a sudden painfully dry. “Is this what you meant by ‘for now’ cause fuck…” he was weak and sensitive to the touch, covered in all manner of bodily fluids. He couldn’t be happier.

 

Hannibal crawled across the bed to lay down next to Will, with a satisfied sigh. “It can be.” He trailed a feather light touch down the younger mans stomach.

 

Will turned on his side facing the older man, propped up on his elbow. Hannibal wasn’t looking at him, but at the space between their bodies. The only part of them that touched was the fingers Hannibal splayed across the younger mans stomach. “Is this what you want?” Will knew the answer, but he asked anyways he wanted to hear it from the horse’s mouth.

 

“Yes.” Was the only reply. Hannibal finally met the younger mans eyes, holding the look. A million unsaid words and thousands of conversations passed between them in the span of a few heart beats. Everything slowed down, and time stopped with that one look.

 

~

 

You might be asking yourself why any of this is important, it’s not. That isn’t the point. But it’s not the destination that matters, the journey is what counts. Four years, and 4 months later. Will and Hannibal had been terrorizing the city of Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.

 

Will was covered in blood, not his own. He wore a trench coat to cover the mess. Hannibal was taking off his own jacket and stopped to look at Will. “What is it?” He had a look of apprehension on his face, and he moved closer to the young man. “What troubles you dear Will?”

 

Will was frozen in place, he came to the realization that this was what he wanted. Forever… the rest of his, no their life. He wanted the chaos, and the excitement, the adrenaline rush. He wanted a whole fucking pack of dogs, retire in Florida; the place old people go to die, and spend the rest of his days, fucking Hannibal’s brains out.

 

He jerked his head up, to stare at Hannibal as if he was looking at a ghost. “I…” he began.

 

Hannibal felt the younger mans forehead. He made Will meet his eyes. “I am concerned about you, Will.”

 

Will whispered. “You should be.” And pulled Hannibal forcefully by his tie, into a deep kiss, after he broke away, pausing for a breath. “I want you to marry me, we… I want… in. Marry me? Will you marry me?” It came out a jumbled mess, a tangle of words. He cleared his throat once. “I want you to marry me in Ushuaia… Hell you can have our wedding in front of a whole island of Penguins for all I care.”

 

Hannibal looked genuinely surprised and he laughed. “Still not going to let the Penguin thing go are you?”

 

“Never.” Will was grinning at the older man. He ran a hand through Hannibal’s hair fucking it up and smirking. “So what is it? Will you marry me?”

 

“How could I refuse, such a romantic gesture from my ever persuasive boy.” Hannibal had that look on his face. Blank, all but for the devilish glint in his eye. Will tug at the older mans hair.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest chapter I've ever wrote, but it felt like it needed to be. I did so damn much research for this chapter, it took me forever to write it, and when I started it I had no fucking clue how it was gonna start or end, but here it is. Once I started doing research all the pieces fell together. 
> 
> If you wanna know about the penguin things, you'll have to wait until the end of this fic, It'll probably end up a time stamp.
> 
> So much music for this chapter. Few select songs. Wolves by Rag'n'Boneman, Dust to Dust by Civil Wars(ugh this song.) Devil's Backbone by Civil Wars, Eyes Shut by Years & Years, Kiss Me by Olly Murs,


	11. The Walrus and the Carpenter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now back to you're routinely scheduled programming. 
> 
> Abigail's stay with Will and Hannibal is coming to a close. The young girl isn't ready to say goodbye just yet, but she doesn't really have a choice in the matter.

 

"The time has come," the Walrus said,  
"To talk of many things:  
Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax--  
Of cabbages--and kings--  
And why the sea is boiling hot--  
And whether pigs have wings."

"But wait a bit," the Oysters cried,  
"Before we have our chat;  
For some of us are out of breath,  
And all of us are fat!"  
"No hurry!" said the Carpenter.  
They thanked him much for that.

~ from The Walrus and The Carpenter by Lewis Carroll, _Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There_ , 1872

 

 

“You thought we forgot about you? Didn’t you?” Will pat their would be assassin on the face, a little harder then necessary. Will wanted to be sure the man in black was paying attention. The older man wasn’t entirely pleased, and he would rather be doing a million other things right now. “Now I know, you don’t want to talk to me. I certainly don’t want to be talking to you, but here we are.” Will had adopted a cold, distant, and sarcastic tone. “You… are going to tell me who sent you. You will, because if you don’t… I will be the least of your worries.”

 

The man tied up and gagged just stared defiantly at Will, like he was not impressed. Will had used his Empathy to read their prisoner. He didn’t need to take off his gag, to know what he wanted to say, or what he was thinking. “See, now that was your first mistake, people are always underestimating me.” Will slid a hunting knife from his pocket, and flicked it open, with a sinister click.

 

Will let out a dramatic sigh. “Let me explain a thing to you. Me, myself and I. Well… I will only hurt you in the general sense. I’m not sadistic, and I take no pleasure in torture, it has never been my style.” Will trailed the edge of the blade down one side of the assassins cheek. “I lean more towards, doing bad things to bad people…” The older man stopped the blade just at the corner of the man in black’s left eye. “…because it makes me feel good.” Will finished at last.

 

The assassin tried to keep an eye on the blade, but Will brought his attention back to himself with another pat on the cheek. “While, I will just hurt you, because you are a very bad person, and you threatened my family. I will not hesitate to hand you over to my husband.” Will had a blank and slightly pissed off look around his eyes.

 

“You remember him don’t you?” The second Will had mentioned his ‘husband’ the assassin’s eyes went wide.” You see we are different in how we do… things. He will make you suffer… it won’t be painful suffering… no, no, no, he will just ruin your mind, with all the terrible things that can and will happen under his steady hand.” Will knew it only would take an ounce of pressure to break skin, and applied that know how. To let the blade bite into the skin at the corner of the assassin’s eye. “He was a surgeon. And… he is a cannibal. You put two and two together.”

 

The tied up younger man was suddenly flailing wildly against his bonds. Will knew he had hooked his fish. It had taken the bait beautifully. They would get all the information that they needed from him now. Will thought it was funny, you mention the word cannibal and suddenly everyone starts to panic.

 

After Will got the information he needed from the guy, he stood up. His bones creaked from kneeling too long. He was definitely getting to old for this shit. He backed up slowly to the door of the basement. “I appreciate your cooperation; it makes things go much smoother.” The older man used his empathy once more, sensing their assassin’s blind hope, at being let go. “Don’t be naïve, you didn’t think we would be stupid enough to let you live.” With that Will made his way up the stairs.

 

~

 

Will and Abigail sat on a little boat, they were fishing. The old dog Encephalitis was leaning over the side, tongue lulling. Will was teaching the younger girl how to tie knots and fish flies. She enjoyed his company, and liked to listen to him talk about catching prey. They both were wearing fishing gear, and Abigail had on a life jacket. She had also coated herself in a fine lair of sunscreen. The girl wandered over to pet the corgi. “You having fun Cephy?” the dog just turn its graying head and licked her hand in reply.

 

 _“_ How do you catch a fish that isn’t hungry?” Will was quizzing the girl.

 

Proud of herself for knowing the answer, she recited back to the old man. “You change your tactics. Use live bait, that moves.” Will gave her an approving nod of the head and smirked at the young girl.

 

“What has been up with Hannibal?” the girl asked the older man, eyes squinting in the sun. She shielded her eyes to look back at the house from this distance. “He’s been acting funny since we got home from the hospital.”

 

With raised eyebrows in feigned innocence Will added. “I hadn’t noticed.”

 

Abigail shot the older man a look and snorted. “Oh please, the Hubble space station could see it. “Maybe it’s just a faze?...” Abigail wasn’t so sure; she just wanted the old Hannibal back. “Maybe… he wont… you know… do something crazy.” The girl didn’t finish what she was thinking. Hannibal was being reckless. He would get himself killed, if he kept at it. She glanced at Will with a worried look.

 

 

That startled a laugh from Will, with a sigh and a nod. “He has never has been good at hiding when something was upsetting him.” What he didn’t say aloud was that was the biggest understatement of the century.

 

“Why is he upset?” Abigail wanted to know. She was looking into the tank of water on the boat that housed fish that they caught. “Well… I mean I’m upset, that someone tried to kill us too, but you guys beat him.”

 

Abigail beamed at Will with such pure hero worship. She pictured that she was looking at a knight in shining amour. Maybe she was to some extent. Two old retired knights? What an image. She had to bite the inside of her mouth to keep the laugh off her face, when she imagined the two of them fighting over who was the better knight.

 

“Yeah…we beat him.” Will trailed off distantly. He was lost in thought. Snapping himself out of his reverie, he looked at the young girl. “Hannibal will be fine. He just needs a few days to recover. He had a busy week.” He tried not to let the worry pouring off the girl get to him to.

 

“If you say so.” Abigail shrugged and moved to sit down with a flop. Encephalitis moved to sit next to the girl just as soon as she sat down, he was licking her face. “You just been dying to do that haven’t you Cephy?” She fluffed the dog’s ears and pet him, running fingers through his fur.

 

“Did you ever ask Hannibal about the dog’s name?” Will inquired with a smile, glancing at the girl momentarily.

 

Abigail sighed and was swinging her feet, back and forth over the edge of the bench where she sat. “No… I forgot, and I didn’t wanna bug him.” She absent-mindedly trailed a finger across the scar on her neck. “Where did the name come from?” The girl looked up, waiting for Will to tell her to ask Hannibal again.

 

Will just shifted his position where he was standing and scratched his chin. “Hmm, Hannibal is much better at telling stories, than I am.”

 

“You aren’t bad.” Abigail was grinning at the old man. Who just gave her ‘the look’. She laughed.

 

“Oh, I’m honored, that the grandmaster story-teller hasn’t spoiled you, with spinning tales.” Will was sassing the girl right back. “You don’t believe all that nonsense he tells you? Do you?” He trained an eye on the girl, a look of mischief in his eye, it was very reminiscent of the one Hannibal often had.

 

The young girl watched Will, trying to decide if he was teasing her or, telling her that the stories Hannibal had told were pure bullshit. “Why shouldn’t I believe it?”

 

Will gave a shrug, pulling one of his goofy faces. “Good point, you got me there.” He cast his line and Abigail shook her head.

 

~

 

 

Abigail had searched the house high and low for Hannibal. She finally found him in the lounge/ballroom. He was seated at the Harpsichord with a pencil in one hand and the other was suspended above keys. She was about to turn around and leave him be, but he spoke first. “Please don’t leave on my account.” He twisted on the bench to smile warmly at the young girl. She couldn’t refuse the invitation.

 

Abigail took a seat next to him, and watched him play a few short chords. He paused to make notes on a half filled sheet of music. “Are you writing a song?” The girl asked curious.

 

Hannibal stopped writing, setting his pencil down, to look at her. “It was intended to be a surprise.” The older man took her small hands in his holding them. “I thought I might write you your own harpsichord piece, since you’ll be leaving us in a few days.” Abigail opened her mouth to say something, but he stopped her with a finger to his lips. “I wanted something for you to remember us by.”

 

She was on the verge of tears; she didn’t know what to say. The thought of leaving was unbearable. She couldn’t imagine going back to her old life, with boring, obnoxious, overly-talkative Ms. Atwell. The woman did not understand Abigail, and she certainly didn’t care what the girl wanted. With Hannibal and Will, that did things with her, they talked to her like she was a person. They didn’t talk down to her, with annoying baby talk. They didn’t make her feel stupid. These two old men understood her better then she understood herself.

 

Her bottom lip quivered. “This isn’t goodbye right?” It couldn’t be…this couldn’t be it. Just one more day, and she might never see them again. “I mean,… I-I can come back to visit you both, if that is ok.” The girl had a sinking feeling, in the pit of her stomach. She looked down at the keys, and where Hannibal still had a hold on her hands.

 

Hannibal gave the girl a small reassuring look. “If your foster mother allows it, you may come to visit as often as you like.” Abigail wasn’t convinced, it was starting to sound to much like a goodbye forever to her.

 

Suddenly she blurt out. “You-you aren’t gonna do something crazy, and get yourself killed are you?! You can’t… I need you.” She lowered her voice to barely audible and added. “Will needs you...” Abigail couldn’t help the tears that stung her eyes now.

 

Hannibal pulled her in close for a hug, shushing her. He had his chin resting on the top of her head. “Nonsense, I wouldn’t dream of it. I will always choose life, and you make mine better for having known you.” He was petting her hair comfortingly.

 

The young girl pulled back to look at him. “You promise?” She remembered what he had said about keeping promises, and knew what she asked now.

 

Hannibal smiled down at the girl, and produced a pocket square from the front of his suit jacket. He dabbed at her eyes wiping away tears. “I promise.” He ducked his head slightly to look in her eyes. To make sure she knew he meant it.

 

~

 

Later as she was getting ready for bed, her cell phone went off making noise. It startled the crap out of her. She quickly searched her pants pocket for the phone. The girl had left her jeans on a pile on the floor, while she went to brush her teeth. Finally with phone in hand she looked at the screen. It was a text message from Ms. Atwell. Swiping the screen with a thumb she checked it. ‘Abs dear, I’m back early, come meet me outside, alone. It’s a surprise.”

 

Abigail’s heart was beating very fast. Ms. Atwell had come back early, she was going to take her away from all of this. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye so soon. She was going to miss the dogs, and Vanessa did not allow pets in her house. With a heavy heart the young girl stuffed her feet into her chucks, and made her way as quietly as she could down stairs.

 

She creped outside through the front door, luckily none of the dogs had followed her, they would have made to much racket. When Ms. Atwell saw Abigail she squeaked with delight, pulling the girl into a crushing embrace. She just stood there like a lump letting the woman hug her, not hugging her back. “I missed you so much Abs. Did you have a good time?” The young girl noticed that her guardian wasn’t alone.

 

Abigail just nod, feeling herself revert back into her unsociable self. “Yeah.” She mumbled at last.

 

“Oh that’s great. I’m glad to had fun. And you look well.” Ms Atwell appeared to be giving the girl a once over. “Abigail, I’d like you to meet someone.” The girl noticed that Vanessa was using her full name which she hardly ever did. A figure came into view as they stood out on the front porch. A tall darker skinned man stepped forward. “This is Special Agent Crawford.”

 

Abigail’s eyes narrowed the name sounding familiar, but she wasn’t able to place it just yet. “Hello.” Was all she managed to say. In better light she noticed that this man was about the same age as Will and Hannibal.

 

“Nice to meet you, Miss Hobbs. Your mother has told me so much about you.” He offered a hand to shake and Abigail just stared at it like it was something dirty.

 

“Foster… Mother.” Abigail corrected.

 

“Don’t be rude Abs.” she heard Ms Atwell sigh exasperated.

 

She did as she was told feeling a sort of dread come over her. The girl shook the older mans hand, like it was a snake that would bite her. “Nice to meet you.” She muttered under her breath.

“It’s my pleasure.” Agent Crawford replied.

 

“I was hoping that you might have some news for me Abs. Did you find anything interesting while you stay here? I’m sure Special Agent Crawford would also like to hear if you found anything.” Her foster mother was fluttering her eyes at the girl expectantly.

 

“What was I supposed to be looking for?” Abigail asked playing stupid.

 

“Oh anything unusual at all. Anything out of place. That sort of thing you know.” Ms Atwell added.

 

“Your foster mother tells me that the two gentlemen who own the house, traveled abroad for twenty years. Did they tell you anything about their travels?” Agent Crawford shifted his weight watching the girl carefully.

 

“They didn’t talk about it.” Abigail wasn’t exactly lying; they hadn’t told her that much about what they did over seas. All she knew was they had traveled all over, and lived in France for a time.

 

“Well any information you can remember at all would be helpful.” The tall man took the folder he was holding and flipped it open. He picked up a photograph showing it to the young girl. “Do you recognize these two?” There were four photos next to each other. Separate mug shots. Two of Will and two of Hannibal. One of each of the photos was old, the opposite photo was an aged photo, digitally enhanced to show what they would look like now.

 

Abigail shook her head. She didn’t know what to say. The photos did look like the two older gentlemen, but at the same time… she could lie and say it didn’t. Ms. Atwell ruined her plan though; she hadn’t factored her guardian into it. “Abigail, don’t lie. You know very well it looks just like Stephen and Guillaume.” Right in that moment she hated Vanessa Atwell.

 

Abigail shrugged, what could she say to that. Damned if she did damned if she didn’t. “I don’t know they could be anyone.” She was biting the inside of her cheek. The girl wanted to run, these two adults, one who claimed to be her guardian; were threatening to take away everything that made her happy.

 

Ms. Atwell moved closer to the girl and put a coddling arm around the young girls shoulders. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment Agent Crawford, I’d like to have a little word with Abigail here.” The girl knew she was in trouble now.

 

“Take your time. I’ll wait over there by the car.” With the older man moved to where the car was to lean up against it. He laid the file he was holding out on the hood of the car, reviewing its contents.

 

When the agent was out of earshot Ms. Atwell snapped at the young girl. “What is wrong with you Abigail? Why are you lying?” The woman pinched the underside of Abigail’s arm. “I know you are holding something back.” Abigail winced in pain and tried to pull away. But her guardian dug her nails into the young girls upper arm, with more force. “You will make me look the fool. I went to great lengths to get an Agent out here; you’re going to ruin this for me.”

 

“Why is this so important to you!?” Abigail cried jerking away. She was angry at Vanessa, it had been her fault she was here, and now that she was attached to these two old men she couldn’t bear the thought of Ms. Atwell destroying the fairytale like quality the place had for her. “What do you get out of this?”

 

Her foster mother smacked Abigail across the cheek; it stung, and left a red mark. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that, you little brat!” Ms. Atwell was seething and looked like she wanted to hit the girl again.

 

Angry tears welled up in the corner of Abigail’s eyes and she lashed out at her foster mother, she kicked the woman as hard as she could in the shin, and ran for it.

 

Abigail had run as fast as she could around the back of the house. Her heart was pounding in her chest like horses running down a race track. She clattered up the steps to the upper level. She threw herself at the double doors, and the noise automatically sent the dogs barking.

 

She closed the double doors behind her, and almost stepped on little paws, as the pack started sniffing her and barking still. Abigail tried shushing them. “Your being to loud guys. Shhh!” The kitchen light came on and blinded the girl.

 

“Abigail…?” The questioning voice was Hannibal’s; she couldn’t see yet, her vision still clearing. When she wasn’t seeing spots anymore she ran to the older man, dogs at her heels.

 

“Ms. Atwell,-returned-early-and-brought-some-agent-with-her-and-he-knows-who-you-both-are-and-she-hit-me-and-she-never-did-that-before-and-I-REALLY-hate-her…” The young girl was speaking so fast she was stumbling over her own words. Hannibal held up a hand to stop her.

 

“Slow down, tell me what happened.” Hannibal had a very serious look of concern on his face. He saw the welt on the girl’s cheek and brushed a feather light finger across it. “Who did this Abigail?”

 

“My foster mother… she’s back! And she brought some FBI agent with her someone named Crawford, and I think he knows who you both are, and she hit me.” She looked at the floor and bit her lower lip. Ms. Atwell had never raise a hand to her before, and so she must have done something wrong, but… she couldn’t think of what. It didn’t matter she hated the woman, with passion now.

 

“Agent Crawford you said?” Hannibal spoke in a stern commanding voice. “You’re positive that is the name of the Agent with your foster mother?” Something changed in Hannibal he was no longer friendly kind, old gentleman with a husband of 15 years, and a pack of dogs. He was, in… killer mode now.

 

Abigail nod her head slowly. The man standing before her now, scared her, but at the same time, she knew she was safe from his wrath, that now threaten to boil over like a pot whistling on the stove for to long. It was like watching a tiger in a zoo, getting ready to pace back and forth in front of the glass, just waiting for its chance to pounce on some unsuspecting victim. “Yes I’m sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are only a few more chapters left in the story to go. But worry not, I have a few time stamps planned. I hope you all have enjoyed this ride as much as I enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> -Sorry for grammar mistakes, was late posting this.-


	12. Alice’s Evidence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confrontation happens, as Abigail tries to help. Hannibal and Crawford have another show down, and it looks like someone might have been shot.

Twas brillig, and the slithy toves  
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;  
All mimsy were the borogoves,  
And the mome raths outgrabe.

`Beware the Jabberwock, my son!  
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!  
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun  
The frumious Bandersnatch!’

He took his vorpal sword in hand:  
Long time the manxome foe he sought —  
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,  
And stood awhile in thought.

And as in uffish thought he stood,  
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,  
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,  
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through  
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!  
He left it dead, and with its head  
He went galumphing back.

`And has thou slain the Jabberwock?  
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!  
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!  
He chortled in his joy.

`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves  
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;  
All mimsy were the borogoves,  
And the mome raths outgrabe.

 

 

 

“WHERE did she go?” To say Jack Crawford was fuming was and understatement. He didn’t have a warrant so he couldn’t just go busting down doors, and jack up the law. Something fishy was going on here. “First of all why did she run off?”

 

Ms. Atwell favored her left side, putting all her weight on it, her right ankle was bruised where Abigail had kicked her. “I-I don’t know. I assume she ran into the house, she ran around back. I don’t know what has gotten into her.” She was pissed that her foster daughter was ruining her plans.

 

Agent Crawford eyed the woman suspiciously. “Did you say something to upset her? She had to have a reason for running off like that.” Things were just getting better and better. “You say your positive that these two gentleman look just like the two in the photos I showed you.” He sighed. This was not making his job easy. This might be his last chance to finally catch those two bastards once and for all. He wanted this to be the last thing he did before he retired for good.

 

“Oh yes I’m 100% sure, it’s them with out a doubt.” Vanessa Atwell assured the special agent. She would be getting a substantial reward if she was indeed correct. She knew she had recognized them from some where, and planned to cash in on the reward money.

 

“Well with Abigail running off, we lost the element of surprise, she must know something if she took off like that.” Jack unclipped the gun in its holster at his side; he wanted it for easy access if things got deadly. He knew what to expect now since, they probably could guess he is here, if the girl had alerted them.

 

“Are you expecting a shoot out Agent Crawford?!” Ms. Atwell was slightly alarmed; she had not been expecting this.

 

“I would run along and wait in the car if I were you Vanessa. Things are much too dangerous out here for you.” Hannibal was standing in the doorway on the front porch. He was giving Ms. Atwell fiendish look. “Jack my old friend… It had been entirely too long, hasn’t it?”

 

~

 

Abigail had been told to stay in the house, or find a safe place to hide. She had watched Will and Hannibal talk furiously in hushed voices. Afterword Hannibal went storming towards the front door. Will had snuck off around back, or some where. He was always doing that, sneaking off, to return later. It was interesting how the two would look at the same problem and go about it differently, Will preferred to come at you side-ways, throwing you off balance. And well Hannibal preferred to tackle things head on.

 

She had a sinking feeling that things would get ugly. While the two old guys were arguing Abigail had remembered where she had heard the name Crawford. He was the head of the FBI team, thing that Will had worked for when he was younger and being groomed to catch the Chesapeake Ripper. It appears now very clearly that Hannibal was this Agent Crawford’s Teumessian Fox. The only difference now was that Will was no longer the ‘General’s’ dog, Laelaps.

 

No, things could only end very badly. She knew that Hannibal would be out for blood, and Will, he would do anything he needed to A.) Keep Hannibal alive. And B.) Back his husband up. It didn’t matter how much they fought or argued, when push come to shove. Only Will would be able to do harm to Hannibal if he so chose. It went equally so for Hannibal, if not more. No they would work together towards a common goal.

It wasn’t often that Abigail disobeys an order from Hannibal. He scared her, enough that she would do as told on almost all things. But she also knew he was doing so to look out for her. This was not one of those times. She could not bring herself to wait around in the house, or hide away. Worrying over whether Hannibal or Will got hurt.

 

Making a quick pit stop to her room, she rifled through her backpack. She found what she was looking for and pocketed her hunting knife. The young girl had gone out the backdoor on the upper level of the deck. Trot down all the stairs to the ground level on the beach, and walked around the left side of the house.

 

Adrenaline was coarsening through her veins. She felt like she was having one of Hannibal and Will’s grand adventures. The girl could see them in her mind, taking down opponents, and slaying their enemies together. They would have been as magnificent as two warlords, conquering armies, probably one of them swinging an axe on the battlefield.

 

From where she was hiding; she couldn’t help laugh, Hannibal had said to hide, and she was, technically, so he couldn’t really be mad at her. From where her hiding spot was, she could hear voices. She assumed they belong to Hannibal, the Agent and her foster mother. Abigail’s lip curled in a sneer at the thought of her guardian. The young girl couldn’t see, she would need to move to get a better view.

 

“I can’t say Hannibal, I really did think, that I had seen the last of you, which is until Ms. Atwell here contacted me.” That was the Agent Crawford dude talking.

 

She crouched down by the left side of the porch; she wanted to see what was happening. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a glint of something. The girl turned her head to get a better look, but a quick hand was pressed to her mouth. It was Will, he was wielding a hunting knife.

 

“Shh, don’t talk loud.” The curly haired older man whisper in her ear. Before removing his hand.

 

Abigail nod her head at him in acknowledgment. He asked. “What are you doing out here? Didn’t Hannibal tell you to wait inside…?” He didn’t look amused and she would probably hear it later from both old men.

 

“I wasn’t about to sit inside like a scared rabbit, to worry over you two old farts, getting killed on me or something.” Her reply was haughty, her voice snapping in anger. She had everything to lose and she had made up her mind that she was _not_ going home with Ms. Atwell.

 

“Don’t get yourself caught up in the line of fire kid. This isn’t your fight.” Will was laughing at her; he clearly wasn’t taking her serious.

 

“You guys can do what you need; I know you probably have some unresolved business with that Agent dude. I have bigger fish to fry…” With that Abigail left him by the side of the porch to get closer, she crept along the weird tropical bushes that she hid behind.

 

“Abigail!” came the harsh whisper; Will couldn’t raise his voice with out drawing attention to himself.

 

“We can be civilized adults here, where is Abigail. Is she still alive? You didn’t kill her did you?” Ms. Atwell sounded like she was trying to reason with Hannibal, but why did she think he would kill her?

“I assure you that Abigail is fine, I wouldn’t harm a hair on her lovely head. The same I am afraid can’t be said for you.” Hannibal sounded normal, nothing to see here…right… Abigail knew better. It was just the calm before the storm.

 

“Where is Will Graham? I was surprised to hear that he was still alive.” Agent Crawford said. It sounded accusing. 

 

With out another look behind her, she ran to the car parked in the driveway. She made sure to stay low to the ground. Will might be the fisherman, and he was very good at it, but one thing Abigail knew was hunting.

 

She slid along the back of the car, making herself as small as she could. The girl didn’t really have a plan for what she was going to do, but she knew that there had to be something, anything to do. Getting a random crazy idea she knelt down by the left back tire of the Volkswagen. Looking carefully in the fading light she found the little nozzle tab where you put air in the tire. She got out her hunting knife flipping the blade open and dug away at the tab trying to cut it off or out. Frankly she didn’t even know if that was a good idea. She just needed a task to keep her hands busy. The girl was too nervous and distracted by fiddling with the air in the cars tire. She had completely lost track, and was not paying attention to the conversation the adults were having.

 

There was a loud gunshot from close by; it startled the crap out of Abigail. Forgetting that she was even supposed to be hiding she stood up to look. Ms. Atwell was shouting, and flailing her arms. Hannibal and Crawford were on the ground, it looked like Hannibal had tackled the tall Agent to the ground, and was rolling him like a fucking crocodile. And Will… where was he? Did someone get shot? The young girl couldn’t tell if Hannibal was hurt or not there was too much going on.

 

“Abigail!” Ms. Atwell had spotted her charge at last. The young girl froze in place, as her guardian ran over. “Abigail, what are you doing out here? And thank god you’re safe.” Vanessa took a firm grip on the girl’s arm and was yanking her away from the car.

 

Abigail had come to the decision that she was never going to let Ms. Fucking Atwell lay another hand on her ever again. No she would fight back; she would be like Hannibal and Will. “Don’t touch me!” The girl shoved her guardian away as hard as she could. Abigail was not a fighter, but she would learn, and maybe one day she might be. Right now though, she was picking the wrong fight.

 

Her foster mother pulled the girl by her hair yelling. “What has gotten into you? You are like some kind of wild animal now, since your stay here.” Ms. Atwell went to bring the girl closer; by the hold she had on her hair, swinging the girl to face her head on.

 

“Oww, you’re hurting me!” She cried out at her hair being pulled.

 

Abigail, who was still holding onto her hunting knife, was caught off guard. A hand came up in self defense. The blade caught her guardian in the abdomen, sinking in and upward. The girl had panicked in the scuffle, and ended up gutting her foster mother. Mouth wide in shock the girl had dropped the weapon, as the body of Ms. Atwell fell to the ground. Her ears were ringing, and she felt def.

 

Bloody hands held out in front of her body, Abigail stood there staring down at Ms. Atwell’s lifeless body. What had she done? “Oh… my god.” She had not meant to kill her foster mother, but the woman had attacked her. It had been a mistake she told herself. Why was everything going wrong? Today, tonight of all days. Worst day ever!

 

After panicking more about what she had done, Abigail moved around the other side of the car, hands still held up like some dirty thing that she didn’t want to be touching. Taking in the scene before her; she couldn’t believe she had forgotten about the fight between Hannibal and Agent Crawford. Hannibal’s face was a bloody mess, and he had the Agent in a choke hold.

 

When Hannibal looked up, eyes took one glance at the blood on Abigail’s hands. It broke his concentration enough for Crawford, to twist free. Agent Crawford turned on his heel and punched Hannibal in the face. If she had thought more blood could spread across Hannibal’s face she had been wrong. Abigail screamed, and it made the taller man turn towards the girl.

 

“What did you do? Where is your foster mother Abigail?” The Agent only had enough time to ask one question, and Hannibal was on him. A fist wound in Crawford’s tie, the older man used it like a leash pulling, and whipped it in a swift motion around a thick neck to choke the broader man.

 

Where was Will? Why wasn’t he here helping Hannibal, had the Special Agent shot him? Abigail didn’t know what was going on. Her mind was racing, many different scenarios played out in her mind. There seemed to be a pattern going, always asking where the fuck Will was. If he wasn’t dead, she would mention it to him. He was supposed to be here to back Hannibal up.

 

Eyes snapped back to the present situation. Jack had loosened his own tie enough to get away from Hannibal, dodging a fist from the older man. The Agent kneed Hannibal in the stomach. The older man went down on one knee, clutching at his side. With one sudden movement standing up, he threw a fist full of sand into Crawford’s eyes, blinding him. The girl saw Will out of the corner of her eye. He was running full board at Hannibal and Crawford. He was covered in blood, Abigail didn’t know if it was his or not. He looked livid and half crazed. Will looked like he was about to tackle both Hannibal and the Agent, but a slightly surprised Hannibal expertly side-stepped his husband just in time. He stood, dusting his hands off. He was breathing heavy and watching as Will and the Agent went down to the ground in a heap.

 

The youngest of the three was punching the Agent in the face over and over. His knuckles were bloody, and bruising. Hannibal finally stepped in and tried to pull Will off, but Will shoved the older man away. “Will enough.” Abigail must be missing something, because she didn’t know why Will was acting so frenzied right now.

 

“It. Will. Never. Be. Enough.” Will growled out, with each punch to Crawford’s face, he enunciated it with a word.

 

Hannibal walked around the fight, if you could call it that; to check up on Abigail. She watched him with wide eyes, she was in shock. He had to repeat her name twice before she even answered him. “Yeah, Yeah… I’m fine…” She turned slightly looking over her shoulder, towards the car; she swallowed hard, and tried to keep calm. “I don’t think Ms. Atwell is fine, though.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh this chapter gave me so much fucking trouble. It was the hardest chapter for me to write, I just couldn't get it right, and I'm not very happy with it. It's a rather short chapter too. OnO
> 
> I believe this will be the last chapter before the finale. I hope you all have been enjoying this as much as I have. The last chapter will be long, and clear up the ending. I have time stamps planned for the future so worry not, I do not believe this will be the last of the Murder family.


	13. Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Bat!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is not the end. You know what they say death is only the beginning. Abigail finds out that she isn't alone in the world, and she realizes that she can be happy, loved and accepted in a home again. More cooking lessons ahead and comfort food, is always a cure for the blues.

“And ever, as the story drained  
The wells of fancy dry,  
And faintly strove that weary one  
To put the subject by,  
"The rest next time--" "It is next time!"  
The Happy voice cry.  
Thus grew the tale of Wonderland”  
― Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking-Glass

 

How doth the little crocodile

Improve his shining tail

And pour the waters of the Nile

On every golden scale!

How cheerfully he seems to grin

How neatly spreads his claws

And welcomes little fishes in

With gently smiling jaws!

___ Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland, " **How Doth the Little Crocodile** "

 

 

Twinkle, twinkle, little bat!  
How I wonder what you're at!  
Up above the world you fly,  
Like a tea tray in the sky.  
Twinkle, twinkle, little bat!  
How I wonder what you're at!

~Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland, ‘ **Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Bat** ”

 

 

 

 

“Abigail, Show me what happen.” Hannibal’s voice was stern, and commanding. A voice you listened to, and did not certainly argue with. Abigail was not most people though.

 

“W-What about Will?” The girl glanced around the older man, and looked over to where the other sat on the ground next to the still form of Agent Crawford. He was breathing heavy and slouched over.

Hannibal spared a glance over his shoulder, with one of his micro-smiles. “I trust dear Will to handle himself. Now show me where Ms. Atwell is.”

 

Abigail gave Will one more sweep of her eyes, and nod. If Hannibal wasn’t worried about him, then he should be fine… right? With out wasting anymore time she walked around the far side of the car where she had unceremoniously left Ms. Atwell. The girl still held her hands out in front of her to keep from getting blood all over everything.

 

Hannibal leaned over the body, inspecting it proficiently. Abigail knelt by the body still in shock, her mind still reeling from the nights actives. “She-she attacked me. I thought she was going to hurt me.”

 

The older man looked up from his examination of Ms. Atwell. “Was she?” came the only reply. Abigail blinked and looked over at Hannibal.

 

He did not look like it was a big deal that she had practically gutted her foster mother in fact he looked indifferent. “I-I didn’t mean it, I was holding my hunting knife, when she came at me. I had been trying to cut the air tab on her tires, when I heard a gunshot, she saw me and came over and was pulling my hair.” She didn’t care if she was rambling for some reason she felt the need to explain herself, but Hannibal didn’t seem to care about what she had done.

 

“Abigail, listen to me.” The older man was watching the girl very directly he was making sure he had her attention. He did… and he continued talking. “Vanessa Atwell is more important for you gutting her. She changed you. That's more important than the life she clamored after.”

 

The girl was muttering under her breath. “I’m a monster.” Abigail had a look of horror on her face; she really should not be surprised that Hannibal was so nonchalant about her foster mother’s death. What was she going to do? Did this mean she would go back into foster care now?

 

Hannibal moved over to where Abigail knelt and pulled her up by her elbow. She went with out protest. He hooked his thumb and forefinger under her chin, and made her meet his eyes. “No. I know what monsters are. You’re a _victim_. And Will and I…we’re going to protect you, we made you a promise remember?”

 

Abigail nod her head, she was zoned out. Everything was beginning to be a little to much for her. His words took their good old time to register with her brain. When the older man said that Will and he would protect her, she felt a wave of relief wash over her. “I remember.” She bit her lower lip slightly, worry gnawing at her bones. “What is going to happen to me now?” All of the worse case scenarios flashed before her eyes. Her imagination was running away again, all of the horror stories she had heard of the foster care system, sending a chill down her spine. But she would be an orphan now, which was a different animal all together.

 

Sensing the girl’s ever increasing dread, Hannibal moved closer and pulled her into a giant bear hug. Abigail just held her arms down at her sides, at a loss for words. “Will and I will take care of every thing; you have nothing to worry your pretty little head about.” Abigail let herself be comforted, and thought maybe, just maybe every thing might be ok. “We’ll help you hide the body, and no one will know the wiser.”

She stayed standing in the circle of his arms for a few more minutes longer, before pulling away. Hannibal tucked her under the chin. “Shall we go see to Will?” Abigail nod watching him walk over to where the younger of the two still sat. She followed at a slower pace, feeling weary. There would be no resting just yet; they had things to do first.

 

Hannibal reached out a hand and Will took it, using it as leverage to help him stand. The older man leaned in close to whisper something in the younger mans ear. She couldn’t hear what was being said, but it didn’t seem overly important right now. Hannibal inspected Will’s bloody knuckles and said something to him low in French. The older man kept his left hand resting lightly on the younger mans arm. It was a sort of comforting gesture.

 

Abigail walked over to where the Agent lay. “Is he dead too?”

 

Will turned around to give the girl an equally exhausted look, laced with a twinge of sadness. Exhaling loudly, he shook his head. “No, he is just unconscious.” If she didn’t know any better she thought he might have been crying.

 

The young girl huffed out a sigh of her own feeling a little relived, but then came to the realization there was probably no way Crawford would be leaving the property alive. Unless Will and Hannibal suddenly wanted to get caught, doubtful. No the agent was lucky for being out cold, she was sure he wouldn’t want to be awake for what they intended to do to him.

 

She saw all the blood down the front of Will’s shirt. Worry rose up like panic in her mind again. “Are you hurt?... “She pointed to his clothes. “Whose blood is all that?”

 

He looked down at his shirt; he must have just now noticed how much of a mess it was. That sad, tired look he had when they first came over was back in his eyes. Hannibal’s hand squeezed Will’s arm reassuringly. “It is Cephy’s he must have followed me out here...” He looked like he was having trouble speaking. “…and Jack shot him accidentally in the scuffle.” The muscle along his jaw looked like it would pop, he was grinding his teeth together so hard. His fist clenched and unclenched in fury

 

So that was why Will had flipped out and beat the Agent to a pulp, she didn’t feel bad for him now. She didn’t have to ask to know that the dog was dead. Will would not be reacting this way other wise. Her throat got tight, and tears stung her eyes. Saying anything was out of the question if she spoke now she would break down and start bawling. She was having a hard time believing any of this was real. As if this night already wasn’t a horror shit show. Things would get vastly darker before she went to bed.

 

~

 

Will, Abigail and Hannibal all sat in the kitchen; it was exactly two hours, and forty-five minutes, after the mayhem had happen. They had all taken showers and wore pajamas. No one really spoke, they didn’t need to, and they had a comfortable peace. A shared violence, that made everyone in the room know, just where they stood with everyone else.

 

They had disposed of Ms. Atwell’s body. Crawford was now, some where in the basement, she assumed. And… well they had buried Encephalitis in the front yard, by the tropical bushes. No one had spoken the whole time, Will looked like a ghost. And Hannibal had hovered over him like a nervous prom date. Abigail was pretty sure that they would take care of the car, while she was in bed. She wouldn’t need to even ask about in the morning.

 

Hannibal was busying himself making tea. The kettle on the stove threaten to start whistling at any moment. He went to the coffee mug tree they had sitting on the far counter, to the right of the sink. He collected three mugs and set them out neatly. He gathered their glass French press and set that next to the mugs. He paused for a moment and then went into the pantry and came back with an air tight sealed container. “Valerian Root tea should help you sleep, and it calms the nerves.” The older man broke the silence first almost making Abigail jump.

 

“Are you medicating us Doctor?” Will added sounding slightly teasing, underneath his depressed manner.

 

“Just a fraction and it can hardly be called a medication. It’s just herbal tea.” Hannibal was only a little indignant.

 

“Is that like some kind of herbal drug?” Abigail inquired a bit curious and partially out of wonder. Anything right now to lift her spirits would be ok with her.

 

“No” The older man replied, his tone was annoyed now. Abigail stifled a giggle. He clearly did not enjoy being ganged up on by Abigail and Will. “Both of you are insufferable.” He couldn’t help the small almost barely discernible grin on his face.

 

Will laughed “Why thank you, it took me far too long to get to this degree of unbearable for you.” He sounded overly pleased. “I don’t know what her excuses is, she must come by it naturally.” He jerked a thumb at Abigail with a smirk. Picking on Hannibal appeared to make Will feel better, right now.

 

Abigail grinned back and shrugged. “I learn from the best.” She suspected that Hannibal was willing to be thrown under the bus, as long as it meant Will was at least in a better mood.

 

Hannibal took the kettle off the stove just as it started to shriek. He filled the French press with boiling water; you could see the bits of loose Valerian root floating in the water, dancing about. It was pretty and bobbed up and down in the water, the color changing. He let it sit for a few minutes before pressing the plunger down. “There is lemon balm and ginger too in the tea.” He added, ignoring them both.

 

“So I guess that is it then. We are her fathers now.” Will chimed in thoughtful, changing the subject.

 

Abigail held her breath waiting for Hannibal to interject. When he didn’t reply right away, that sinking feeling in her stomach returned. Was it possible that he didn’t want her here? She didn’t want to think about it if that were the case. She wanted more then anything to stay here with the two of them.

 

“I do believe adoption is in order.” Finally the older man exclaimed pouring tea in all three mugs. He stirred in a dollop of honey into each, and handed Will his cup of tea first.

 

Abigail was beyond ecstatic, she was so happy. Not even earlier events would bring down her morale now. Hannibal handed her a mug of tea. It was very hot; she set it down, to let it cool off. The mug had the saying ‘The dogs love me more.’ printed on the side. Curious she glanced over to read what Will’s mug said. It read.

 

I

Want To

                                                                                     KI

_ _ _ _

You

Results

May Vary.

 

Abigail laughed and peered over to look at what Hannibal’s mug had on the front. His had the words ‘My people skills are ‘rusty’ in big bold print. At last she took a drink of tea, shaking her head. She couldn’t help it the ridiculous mugs made her laugh even more. She must be getting tired, and now everything seemed funny to her. It was better to be laughing then crying, and she had a feeling if she didn't laugh right now she would start crying again. This made both the men look in her direction Will appeared skeptical, Hannibal was mildly curious.

 

“Are you sure, that this is calming tea?” Will cocked an eyebrow in Hannibal’s direction, while questioning the contents of the his cup.

 

“While laughter is the best medicine, I can promise you that is not the intended side effect.” Hannibal was chuckling to himself.

 

“No, no, I was just laughing at these coffee mugs. I can’t picture Hannibal buying these, so it has to be your handy work.” The girl motioned to Will; she was smiling so hard her face was starting to hurt.

 

“Thanks I thought they were a nice touch, and I made it a sort of tradition. I started buying them once a year. Much to his displeasure.” Will jerked a thumb at Hannibal who was narrowing his eyes at his husband.

 

“Ah yes, how I cannot forget these atrocious eye-sores.” He sounded so thrilled when he said it, but he didn’t look annoyed, mostly he had that mischievous glint in his eyes. He was doing his best to hide a grin behind his coffee cup.

 

Will snorted at the look on Hannibal’s face. “I swear he broke a few on purpose, which just made me want to buy them more.” He sipped on his tea, covering a yawn with the back of his hand. “I even tried to find a few that I knew would really irritate him.”

 

Abigail was back to giggling like an idiot. “I bet I can guess which ones those might be.” She held her cup between both hands, enjoying the heat now that it wasn’t too hot.

 

“You will be doing no such thing right now. It’s time for you to go to bed.” Hannibal emptied the loose tea leaves from the French press, into the trash. He then walked around to the sink to clean out the glass carafe.

 

Will seconded him by adding. “Hannibal is right, it’s late. I’m about to turn in myself.”

 

Too exhausted herself to argue, she picked up her cup to carry it over to the sink, where Hannibal stood. He took the coffee mug from her to wash. Hannibal set the clean mug on the dish rack, and turned toward the girl. He gave her a warm smile, and rest his hand on her arm. “Goodnight Abigail.”

 

She nod her head and went to leave the kitchen, she paused at the double doors by the dining room and called over her shoulder. “Night.” She heard Will mumble something in reply, and made her way up to her room.

 

She was going to try to not let the fate of Agent Crawford bother her. Surprisingly she didn’t seem to care an awful lot about it. Abigail had a feeling that was by and large in part due to the tea. In some way she felt he deserved what was coming to him for killing Encephalitis. By tomorrow morning this would all feel like a dream. She would wake up and know they had taking care of everything. Even with the terrible events she felt slightly better than before, slightly... She was still sad, but in the end there was nothing that could be done. Life goes on; the dog would be sorely missed. She knew it would affect Will for some time. Cephy had been his favorite, and was the oldest out of the whole pack. She would do her best to be there for him.

 

~

 

The next morning she slept in extra late. She did not feel like getting out of her nice safe haven of blankets. Normally she rose very early; she liked to start her days getting a shower, doing her hair. Listen to some music, pick out an outfit. But today, she didn’t feel like doing any of those things. After lying in bed with her headphones on for at least an hour, she finally got grumbled and crawled herself out from under her refuge. One nice thing about Hannibal and Will was that they didn’t bug her normally. They let her do almost anything she wanted within reason. They were the type to let her express herself in what ever manner she chose.

 

It was nearing 11:30am by the time she was showered and dressed. Abigail didn’t even care if she had missed breakfast she hadn’t been hungry anyways. But so close to lunch time her stomach growled betraying, how she felt now. Hannibal was waiting for her in the kitchen. Almost like he knew she was on her way.

 

“Guten Abend, Löwchen.” A warm smile came along with his greeting. He was moving about the kitchen as if he were on a mission. The older man stopped to take down a small apron for the girl, and held it out for her.

 

Abigail had an amused look on her face and walked over to put the apron on. He helped her tie it. “That sounded like a Hello, so Hello to you too.” She knew she was being a smart ass, but at least she sort of understood what he said.

 

“Sehr gut, well done.” Hannibal nodded approvingly at the girl and moved to the refrigerator.

 

“What are we making for lunch today?” she was curious and enjoyed learning new recipes.

 

“I would say, never ask, as it spoils the surprise, but you are acting Sous-Chef, so I digress.” He unwrapped a large round bread loaf from its brown paper package, and placed it on a cutting board. With a grin he added. “We shall be making a Muffuletta.”

 

Abigail made a face, she had no idea what that was and it sounded very odd. “Ok, but what is it?”

 

“It is a sort of gourmet sandwich.” There was a twinkle in his eye, but his face was utterly serious.

 

“Oh… that sounds simple. What shall you have me do?” She leaned on the counter waiting for her orders.

 

“You my dear shall help me make the vinaigrette.” He set out fresh garlic, and green olives, and some of his own dried oregano on the marble island.

 

Together they set to work, by now they were used to how the other moved around the kitchen. Abigail was tasked to peeling and chopping garlic, while Hannibal prepared a roasted red bell pepper. The aroma was almost dizzying about them, and it made her even hungrier. She minced the cloves of garlic how he had showed her before. When the garlic was ready the older man placed a large glass mixing bowl in front of her, and handed her a whisk. He instructed her to blend the garlic, oregano and some red wine vinegar simultaneously in the dish.

 

When he was satisfied with its consistency, he told her. “Now you may add in the olive oil.” He got the olives and the chopped up roasted red bell pepper and placed it near by for her to reach. “Gradually.” He commented looking over her shoulder like a teacher.

 

After she slowly added in the olive oil a little at a time, he got to work cutting the loaf of bread so that it had a top about an inch thick. “When do you want me to add the rest?” The girl asked when he didn’t reply right away she just kept at it mixing.

 

“You may add the olives and the pepper in now.” He hollowed out the bread loaf so that it almost looked like a deep bowl.

 

She stirred in the pitted green and kalamata olives, and then added the roasted red bell pepper. Everything smelled so damn good. She wondered where Will was and hoped that he was ok. “Is Will going to join us for lunch?”

 

Hannibal was gathering more things out of the fridge, and he turned his head sharply to give her a scrutinizing look. “He is still sleeping, but I thought we might bring him lunch in bed.” He pulled out cheese and cuts of meat for the sandwich. “How does that sound?”

 

Abigail smiled nodding her head. “I think he might like that.” She liked the idea of her and Hannibal taking care of Will, since she knew that he would still be upset over Cephy’s death.

 

Hannibal finished up the rest of the Muffuletta; he spread some of the vinaigrette on the cut top, and the bottom of the load, layered in cheese and meat. Abigail couldn’t help herself and was nibbling on a piece of what appeared to be fancy ham. “This is really good.”

 

Hannibal licked his upper lip giving her an almost scolding look that screamed ‘tsk tsk’. “Thank you, I made the cold-cuts of meat myself.”

 

That stopped her mid bite and she couldn’t help looking at the rest of the different cuts of meat. Her inner voice was yelling ‘The lunch meat is people!’ over and over. She shrugged and kept eating. It wouldn’t be the first or last time that she ate…long pig.

 

The older man just gave her a curious look and topped off the Muffuletta with onions and fresh arugula, he added the last of the vinaigrette to it, and carefully put the cut piece back on like a lid. “Be a dear and get out some small plates for us.”

 

Abigail wandered around the kitchen getting the little plates he had asked for, and some napkins that she figured would be needed. She watched him cut the sandwich into manageable size pieces. It looked very colorful and layered when viewed from the side, it was sliced like a pizza. Hannibal got out a tray and set three little plates out on the tray and put a piece of Muffuletta on each. He put a kosher pickle spear next to the sandwich slices last.

 

The girl when to the fridge and got out a pitcher that Hannibal told her would be there. It was faintly pink and looked sort of like pink lemonade. She carried it over to where the old man was waiting with three medium sized glasses. He had put in a few ice cubes in each. “Is this lemonade?”

 

“It will be strawberry rose soda. Homemade of course.” He instructed her to pour some of the liquid in each glass, and he added bubbly sparkling water on top of it, stirring very lightly. He left her in the kitchen for a few minutes while he went into the dining room. He came back with a vase filled with white roses.

 

“These are really pretty.” She leaned over to smell them when he placed them on the counter of the large marble island.

 

Hannibal plucked one of the largest blossoms from the vase and set it gently on the tray. “I agree, I hope our dear Will enjoys them.” He turned to smirk at Abigail who smiled back.

 

She noticed that one of the roses out of the whole dozen was not white. There was a single red rose nestled in with the rest. It stood out in stark relief like a pin prick of blood. “Why is this one red and not white like the rest?”

 

Hannibal loomed over her looking at the rose in question. He cleared his throat awkwardly. He almost looked embarrassed, but he was far too elegant for that. “When red and white roses are mixed together is symbolizes unity.”

 

“Why is there only one though…Why not half and half?” She was feeling nosy.

 

The older man traced a finger along a petal of the red rose feeling it between thumb and forefinger. “It serves as a subtle reminder, it is not meant to over whelm the meaning behind the white roses.” For a space of a few seconds he seemed lost in memories.

 

“What to the white roses mean?” She couldn’t help asking, you know what they ask curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.

 

“I’m afraid that is a story for another day.” Hannibal picked up the tray gingerly and headed towards the dining room.

 

Abigail was left behind for a minute sort of disappointed but let it go, to run and catch up.

 

~

 

The young girl had never been in their bedroom, it was so wide open and pleasing to the eye. Their bed was huge. Rightfully so, in the middle of the bed was a huddled figure under a giant heap of blankets. Every dog was piled on top of the covers and settled down dozing in varying positions. Mason the pig slept at the foot of the bed on the large foot rest lounge thing that was there. The minute they walked in the room all the animals lifted their head in unison. They didn’t move and went back to their rest when no one paid attention to them.

 

Hannibal waltzed into the room and went right over to the desk facing a big bay window. You could see the ocean and it was an amazing view. He placed the tray of food on the desk and turned around. He had a semi annoyed look on his face. His eyes narrowed and the crows-feet around his eyes became even more pronounced. He huffed out an audible sigh and snapped his fingers in a commanding manner.

 

The dogs became instantly alert again and slowly grudgingly climbed off the bed to leave the room. Ambrosius the fluffy fox dog stopped at Abigail’s feet and whined at her for attention, the last of the pack to leave. She couldn’t resist and bent down to give him a few friendly pats on the head and scratched him behind the ears. She glanced up and saw Hannibal looking impatient, she giggled he reminded her of the Grinch when ever he was getting ready to yell at the poor dog Max from the cartoon. “Don’t let him intimidate you.” She whispered in the dog’s ear. Ambrosius wagged his tail hopefully while turning his baleful eyes to the older man. Hannibal just pointed his finger towards the door, and he left all dejected looking.

 

The pile of blankets on the bed moved and Will turned over, looking disheveled. His hair was sticking up in all directions. He didn’t look so hot. Hannibal placed the three drinks on the dresser on coasters and walked over to the bed with the tray; he placed it in front of Will and sat down on the edge of the bed. Will looked at Abigail, the tray of food then at Hannibal, and back to the food. “You brought me comfort food?”

 

“Oui, bien sûr mon cher.” Hannibal said in French, before leaning in to place a light brush of a kiss to the temple covered in grey curls.

 

Abigail took a seat on the foot rest, and sat Indian style, watching the two of them. They were so cute, and they didn’t share too many romantic moments in front of her. It was very sweet. You could tell just how much Hannibal cared about Will. They were each others whole world, and she hoped that some day she found someone to look at her that way.

 

Will picked up the white rose on the tray and turned it over in his hands. “You made me Muffuletta, I haven’t had one of these since I was in New Orleans last.” He looked like he might start crying. The gesture clearly meant more to him than just comfort food. He nods his head, mumbling his thanks he let out a small sad laugh. “Kur aš be tavęs ?” He muttered to Hannibal in some language she didn’t know.

 

Abigail wanting to break the tension and lighten the mood and let out a sigh. “Great lets eat, I’m so hungry.”

 

Will agreed and Hannibal handed Abigail a plate. It was the most mouth watering sandwich she had ever had. They all ate silently, and she chewed thoughtfully. She carefully set her plate aside and wiped her mouth on her napkin. “You know if I am to be living here now, I think there should be a few ground rules.” She had adopted a tone of authority.

 

Will and Hannibal exchanged glances that said they were confused but intrigued. “Do go on.” Hannibal added he looked like he was trying not to laugh.

 

“No more crazy stunts, no more… acting reckless. I need you guys to stay alive at least until I’m out of college, and that means no more dangerous stuff.” She crossed her arms, she was deadly serious.

 

Will let out a laugh and had a look of awe on his face. “What do you expect us to die of...old age?”

 

Abigail was laughing now too, she couldn’t help it. “Yes.”

 

For once Hannibal was the one shaking his head, he had an evil grin on his face. “Well you heard the young lady.”

 

~

 

Summer was almost over and she would have to start school soon. She was very nervous to be around people who weren’t Hannibal or Will. She didn’t feel like she would fit in. But she knew that they would be there at her side through any obstacle that she faced. It was refreshing and reassuring to know that she wasn’t alone in the world. That she had found two other people that were like her and accepted her completely with out question.

 

She was sitting in the living room with her headphones on. Ambrosius sat in her lap being the good little dogie that he was. The song Baba O'Riley by The Who was playing on her music player.

“Out here in the fields, I fight for my meals, I get my back into my living, I don't need to fight, To prove I'm right, I don't need to be forgiven, Don't cry, Don't raise your eye, It's only teenage wasteland.”

 

She was thinking about the movie nights that Will and her started having more and more often. He loved showing old movies to her, and she liked to pick ones that might be fun to watch. They even managed to persuade Hannibal to watch a few movies with them. It was hilarious watching a movie with Hannibal. He was such a little shit. He would make snide comments about the movie and Will would get annoyed.

 

One night they had been watching Princess Bride, and mostly Hannibal didn’t say a word. He kept quiet through almost the entire movie, until near the end. He off-handedly said in a hushed voice. “Now this movie I like.”

 

Will turned towards him pausing the movie at the part where Inigo was fighting Count Rugen. “So let me get this straight, of all the movies we’ve watched, this is the only one you like?”

 

Hannibal thought about it for a few minutes. He wore one of his impassive blank faces. “It’s not the only one, but for the most part yes. I can relate to this on a minor level.”

 

Abigail sat on the far left of the couch Will was in the middle and Hannibal on the right. She was watching them both trying not to laugh, they were being totally ridiculous and they had the damn movie paused, and she wanted to know how it ended. Will was holding a giant plastic bowl of popcorn in his lap.

 

“No… Don’t you dare.” Will was glaring at Hannibal who just gave him a wry look.

 

“I do not know what you are talking about dear Will.” Hannibal had his legs crossed and an arm on the back of the couch behind Will’s head.

 

“Just no…” Will was talking nonsense or it seemed to Abigail, she didn’t know what he was going on about.

 

It had her thinking since they were a family now, she thought she might know another movie that Hannibal might like and relate to also. “You know have you ever seen The Addam’s Family?” She had a gigantic grin on her face when she said it. “That movie is basically us. We might as well be The Addam’s Family.”

 

There was a large groan from Will and Hannibal inclined his head enough to smile at Abigail. “Yes I do believe I have seen that one.” With out skipping a beat he pulled Will’s arm taunt out to the side, and started placing kisses up to his shoulder like Gomez Addam’s. Abigail let out a peal of laughter, as he did it and Will was trying in vane to yank his arm back, but Hannibal’s grip was like a vice.

 

“Don’t do it.” Will was gritting his teeth, clearly irritated.

 

“Mon cher?” was the only reply.

 

Popcorn went flying every where, pinging off the floor and the giant plasma TV, Will had dumped the whole bowl over Hannibal’s head. Abigail was losing her shit laughing. Hannibal had the nerve to look surprised and the dogs were having a field day eating all the popcorn off the floor that they could find. It was every where, and right now no one gave a shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this is the last chapter, I want to thank everyone who has enjoyed reading this. I loved writing it and I don't see this as the end. I have a few time stamps planned for the future. Just a couple little side-stories to tell.
> 
> I opened the story with cooking lessons and closed it with cooking lessons. I thought it was a nice touch. 
> 
> German-Guten Abend, Löwchen. Good evening, little lion.-Ser Gut. Very Good.  
> French-Oui, bien sûr mon cher. Yes of course my dear.  
> Lithuanian-Kur aš be tavęs ? Where am I without you ?
> 
>  
> 
> For some giggles here is a photo of the Grinch that reminded me of how Hanners's was glaring at Ambrosius. 
> 
> http://staticmass.net/wp-content/uploads/2010/12/grinch_3.jpg
> 
> For anyone who didn't catch my little easter egg. Ambrosius and Didymus are the two dogs from Labyrinth. It was part of my little homage to David Bowie. And of course Will named those two.
> 
> Forgive the grammar mistakes it was like 2am when I finished this. I shall edit it tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone interested, I'm on tumblr. I run a pure Hannibal/Hannigram blog. I'm such trash. Feel free to hit me up or talk to me anytime.
> 
> http://you-dropped-your-forgiveness.tumblr.com/


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